Laurent (version 1)
by Southpaw Swordsman
Summary: This is the story of an orphan and an inventor, their adventures together and the world that they changed. It makes one wonder, "What's in a name?" [This story has been discontinued. It's not finished, but it is as complete as it is going to get. Stay tuned for the rewrite.]
1. Successor

**A/N:**

**-SPECIAL AUTHOR ANNOUNCEMENT-**

**Hey guys. So, it's been a few years since I last worked on "Laurent." I've always felt kind of guilty of leaving all of you hanging like that, especially for this long. I know I hate it when fics I read never have conclusions. I even promised myself I wouldn't become that all-too-common author that leaves their fics on an unofficial, unfinished cliffhanger... so here I am, trying to avoid that terrible fate. Also, more than that, I have some exciting news for the people who enjoyed this fic!**

**But first, the bad news.**

**Though I have attempted it, I simply cannot continue this story. "Laurent" was written as I went, with crazy self-imposed deadlines and an incredibly fuzzy outline that I smeared and smudged every single step of the way. Right now, I think of this story as an unsalvageable mess.**

**BUT WAIT JUST ONE SECOND!**

**That doesn't mean that "Laurent" is gone for good. As I said before, I won't be the author that leaves you hanging. Instead of trying to repair this project, I decided to start afresh. This version will remain on the site for nostalgic purposes, but will be retitled "Laurent version 1" or something to that effect.**

**To all of my readers, thank you so much for your patience and support. I really appreciate it and I hardly deserve it.**

**Be sure to be on the lookout for the new and improved Laurent!**

**(Apparently it's against the rules to have a chapter dedicated to author's notes.)**

**A/N: Just wanted to say hello. This is my first story on this website, so I might as well make a good impression. Please, enjoy.**

Chapter 1: Successor

Quillish Wammy never once thought about marrying. He was an inventor, an explorer, a discoverer… he simply had no time for romance. He had places to go, people to see, items to patent, a world to improve. A wife would simply complicate things. That's what he always thought, at least.

With his entire life ahead of him, he did as any other capable man would do. He traveled the globe. He learned many languages. He met countless wealthy and brilliant people. He educated himself in many handy skills, some of which involved gun handling, piloting, and gourmet cooking. He founded a school. He started a charity fund. He did anything and everything a successful philanthropist such as he could do. Yet… it never seemed like enough. Undeterred, he went on to more things, hoping to somehow, at the end of it all, feel completely satisfied.

He hardly noted the ticking of the clock, the passing of the years.

Then… a day came in which he realized something he never quite noted… he wasn't going to be around forever. It struck him one morning as he realized just how many gray hairs were on his head.

One day he would die, just like every other human. He wasn't above mortality.

When other people actually realize this in their own lives, they sometimes will begin to panic. These people will usually decide that all they have done in their lives was simply waste whatever precious time they had. These people will then begin doing crazy things to make up for all the lost time, all their lost youth. Quillish, however, was not like that. He didn't think that he wasted his life, not even for a moment… but he did begin to wonder…

Who was going to enjoy the fruits of his labor when he was gone?

Someone, he decided, ought to benefit from everything he had created, everything he gathered. After all, it was all going to go to waste otherwise when he passed away.

He wanted an heir.

Now, Quillish was a practical man, and as such, he figured that getting an heir with his blood was out of the question. At that point he was in his forties, so he considered himself too old to only toy with the idea of having a child. Besides, he still didn't quite like the thought of getting married… not that it really mattered. As far as he was concerned, his window of opportunity had left him while he was young.

A few years passed and Quillish kept the thought of a successor in his mind. The gray hairs upon his head steadily multiplied. His fortunes hardly dwindled. His lifespan was ticking away. One day, as he wandered the halls of his enormous yet empty house, he came to his conclusion. If he wanted an heir, he should adopt.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt satisfied with the decision. In adopting, he could find a suitable heir. Many fortunes were ruined by unfit successors, usually related by blood, in the past. Here, Quillish had the upper hand. He could hand-pick the perfect child for his fortune, not just leave it up to chance as so many others had done.

Many friends of his questioned his sanity, especially when they realized that Quillish was going to go around orphanages to find his successor. Many took him aside and questioned the logic in his search. Why an orphan? They're usually so traumatized and "messed up"… there's no way that one could possibly be put in charge of something so important.

His family also disapproved, saying that if he wanted a successor, he should just take one of his nieces or nephews as one. They said it was best to keep the money "within the family." What they meant was they wanted the money for themselves. Quillish paid them all no mind. His decision was made, whether or not they approved.

With his entire world opposing him, Quillish began his search to find the lucky child who would inherit it all.

He traveled the world in his search, from the freezing temperatures of Russia to the oppressive heat of Africa. He scoured Brazil, combed China and explored India. Wherever there was an orphanage, Quillish took a look around. He met thousands and thousands of children, from all walks of life, from all corners of the word… but no child stood out. No child seemed… right.

Quillish grew increasingly depressed at this fact. He stopped enjoying the search. Giving money to orphanages when he left them, "for their trouble," he would always explain, stopped being something he wanted to do and began feeling more like boring routine.

A couple years passed, but his search still bore no fruit. Quillish was beginning to give up hope, deciding that the perfect child that he wanted as a successor just didn't exist. He was too picky, he decided. Any one of the children he had found could have made a fitting heir. It was just his... stubbornness that kept him from selecting one.

It was then that he had gone to America, clinging to a shell of hope that maybe, just maybe, his search wasn't in vain and all of those years weren't wasted.

With that in mind, he stood in front of an old building that was worn quite heavily by the elements. Ivy that had been left unattended had almost completely covered the weather beaten bricks, the blanket seemed only broken by the presence of windows of a style long forgotten. Quillish looked up at the building and gave a sigh. This sight didn't give him any sort of thrill as it used to only a few years prior. The years of disappointment lay heavily on his heart, and every orphanage tinged with false hope seemed to only deepen his depression.

However, just as it always had, very small feeling in the back of his mind still spoke of optimism, that perhaps this next orphanage may hold the person who he had been missing.

Quillish decided to listen to the little feeling, no matter how faint it had become, and mounted the steps to the door. He paused at the entrance, gave another sigh, and rapped his knuckles smartly on the wood.

A low female voice cried out from within, "COMING!" Quillish simply stood, folding his hands behind his back in anticipation, or whatever feeling of it he had left. This scene was so familiar to him by now…

The door was opened a moment later by a tall woman with frizzy brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Her clothes were rumpled but clean, and her eyes were bruised due to a lack of sleep but her gaze was bright. The woman slightly leaned out of the doorway, her hand resting on the frame. She looked rather tired and her breathing a little heavy. "Yes?" she asked between breaths.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. I am Quillish Wammy." Quillish said, taking off his hat and giving a polite bow.

"Sylvia Clark," the woman replied, nodding slightly in return.

"Miss Clark, am I under the correct impression that this is an orphanage?" Quillish asked politely.

"You are indeed, Sir. This is The Clarks' Home for Children," Sylvia said, straightening, her breathing returning to normal. "Take care of all the little ones with my sisters."

Quillish nodded, his expression was one of sincere respect, "Seems like a lot of work."

Sylvia gave a soft smile, "Yeah, it gets hard, but we don't mind it one bit." She looked the man over curiously. "So, Wammy, was it? What are you here for?"

Quillish looked at her with a smile, "I was wondering if any of the orphans were up for adoption."

Sylvia's calm expression changed to one of shock, then immediately to one of joy. "Really?" she asked, animatedly moving out of the doorway. "Come in, Sir."

Quillish walked into the foyer and hung his hat on the worn coatrack next to the door. He glanced at Sylvia. "You don't get offers often?" he asked.

Sylvia shook her head, "It's not like that, but I always get a little excited for my kids. They deserve so much more than what we can give them, you know? When one gets adopted, they get a chance at a better life." She gave a sad smile. "I'm always a little gloomy when I see them go, though."

Quillish took off his coat and hung it up next to his hat. "Now, I never guaranteed that I was going to adopt one." He said, looking at her, his face calm but his eyes warm, "…besides, how do you know I'm a good person? You've hardly met me. How do you even know I'm deserving of one of your children?"

Sylvia smiled, "I can tell just by looking at you that you're a good man, Mr. Wammy." Her smile then turned a little humorous, "Besides, what bad man would admit that he could be one?"

"A sneaky one," Quillish responded, half-jokingly.

Sylvia laughed. "Mr. Wammy, I can tell when someone has shady motives. You don't." she turned and walked a little bit into the building. "Come on, I'll show you the kids."

Quillish walked cautiously behind her. Sylvia seemed so terribly naïve… but there was something so… oddly powerful about her. She was different than most of the other orphanage keepers he had met. He wasn't sure what to call this woman.

"Here we are. This is the main living space." Sylvia said as she took Quillish into a large room decorated with worn furniture. In the corner of the room, children sat and watched the tiny television propped up on a small table. In other areas, children were playing with toys and board games that they had found in the other corners. The room had an unmistakable home-like feel to it… so comforting and calming.

All of the children in the room glanced up from whatever they were doing to take in the new visitor. "Everyone," Sylvia announced, "This is Mr. Wammy." She put out her hand as though he were on display.

"Hello, Mr. Wammy," the children chorused, and then they went back to doing what they had been before. Quillish looked around the room at the children, but again, none of them really stood out. He quietly cursed his high standards before turning to the woman beside him. "Miss Clark, is this everyone?"

Sylvia shook her head. She pointed at the window across the room. "Some of them are out playing," she said. "Others are probably in their rooms," she motioned to a door on the far left of the room, "and there's always at least one in the library…" she continued, pointing to a door on the right.

Quillish walked further into the room and looked at each of the children. No one seemed to jump out at him. Then again, he was being too hasty. He had to remind himself to be positive and not make snap judgments. It was very possible one of these children could be the very one he had been searching for… but he would never have known it if he didn't give him or her a chance. He looked out the window to see a group of children roughhousing, a football left forgotten in the weeds behind them. He smiled. Maybe one of those energetic youngsters would do well with what Quillish could give. He glanced casually to his right… and through the doorway of the library, a form caught his eye. It was a small boy, possibly four or five years old, curled up in a ratty easy chair, his dark eyes scanning the picture book in his hands eagerly.

Quillish wasn't sure what about the boy struck him. He had seen many other young bookworms in many other orphanages, and none of them had caught his attention. This boy seemed somehow different from the others… in a strange, unexplainable way.

"What's that one's name?" he asked.

"That one?" Sylvia asked, following the man's eyes to the young boy, "That one's Laurent."

"Laurent," Quillish repeated, his eyes not leaving the boy. The boy's eyes didn't stray from the book.

"He's a sweet boy," Sylvia said, "Strange… but very sweet."

"Strange?" Quillish asked, his eyes snapping to hers, "How so?"

"He prefers to be alone," Sylvia said with a sigh. "He's rather polite, he's not difficult to get along with, but he won't seek anyone out unless he has something to say." She waved her hand toward the child. "That's mostly all he does." Suddenly, Sylvia's face broke out into a nervous smile, "I-I mean, he's not emotionally unstable or anything… well, he does cry on occasion, but what kid doesn't?"

Laurent turned the page in his book.

"Do the other children ignore him?" Quillish asked.

"No, actually… they're fond of him. They will invite him to play on many occasions, but he usually declines. He prefers to watch." Sylvia folded her arms. "He actually just prefers talking to my sisters and me over talking to the other children."

"Does he go outside?" Quillish asked, noting the child's pale skin.

"Yes, but mostly just to wander around. He isn't usually interested in playing any sports with the others, if anything, he watches." Sylvia put her finger on her chin in thought. "He always watches…" she mumbled to herself.

Quillish turned to the woman and asked, "Could I go talk to him?"

"I don't see why not," Sylvia said with a shrug. "He just might not be up for talking. Don't take it the wrong way."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Quillish said with a smile. With that, he walked over to the library.

Quillish put his head in the doorway and looked around before going in. the "library" was in fact a rather small room with walls lined with old bookshelves. The smell of old, musty books lingered in the air, and the only real piece of furniture in the room was the chair the boy was sitting in.

As he approached, the boy glanced up from his book.

Quillish crouched down to meet the boy at eyelevel. "Hello." The man greeted with a smile.

Laurent regarded the stranger with an expression of curiosity and caution, "Hello." He said in reply. He looked the man over, trying to find something familiar about him, when nothing surfaced, he asked, "Who are you?"

The man laughed. "My name is Quillish Wammy."

"My name is Laurent." The boy said. His eyes drifted back to the book he was holding, but then snapped back up to the stranger. "Are you here to adopt someone?" he asked.

Quillish laughed. "Maybe." He responded.

Laurent nodded and looked back down at the book. "That's good. There's a lot of really good kids here." The little boy said quietly.

"Is that so?" Quillish asked.

Laurent nodded. "Billy is very good at football, and Harriet is really good at drawing. Charlie is a really nice kid and he never gets in trouble and…"

"What about you, Laurent?"

The little boy stopped talking. "Me?" he asked, looking up.

"Yes. Can you tell me about you?"

Laurent's small face brightened a little. "People say that I'm very smart."

Quillish blinked. Whenever children had told him that they fancied themselves smart, he always detected a bit of arrogance behind their words. To them, intelligence was just another thing to brag about. However, this child didn't simply say, "I'm smart," as so many others before him had said. Laurent had said "people say" that he was smart, almost as though he didn't quite believe them.

"Laurent, how would you like to be adopted?" Quillish asked. It was too soon to decide, but he was curious about what the boy would say.

The boy looked down at the book, a smile tugging at his lips. "You want to adopt me?" the boy asked quietly.

"Would you like me to?" Quillish asked.

The boy looked up, any traces he might have had of a smile had been carefully hidden away, "I don't know yet," the boy said. "You're a stranger. We're not supposed to go with strangers."

"Well, why don't we try to tell each other a little more about ourselves, then?" Quillish asked. "We won't be strangers after that, will we?"

Laurent gave a small shrug.

"I'll go first, then." Quillish said. "You know my name is Quillish Wammy. I'm an inventor."

"Really?" Laurent asked, "What sorts of things did you make?" the young boy's eyes were bright with curiosity.

"Top-secret things," Quillish said, putting his finger to his lips. "I'm not sure if I could trust you with this information until I know you better."

Laurent was silent, studying the pages before him. Silence persisted for a few seconds. "I read a lot… and I draw a little bit."

"Really? Are you a good artist?"

Laurent gave a shrug. "People say I am."

"Do you play sports?"

"Sometimes," Laurent said, he looked away, "Billy's the one that really likes sports…"

"Are you friends with Billy?" Quillish asked.

Laurent gave a small shrug. "I'm not sure." he responded. He lapsed into a state of silence again.

Quillish simply looked at the boy for a few seconds. When it was clear that the boy had made his point and was not going to discuss anything further, Quillish stretched out his arms. "Well," he said, standing up, "I must be going."

"Mister, you said that you would tell me some of your inventions when you knew me better," the boy said.

"That's right…" Quillish said, "I'll tell you one." He crouched low again. "I made a new battery that is better than all other ones on the market."

Laurent blinked. "That's not very special." His voice betrayed disappointment.

"The special ones come later." Quillish laughed. "It was very nice to meet you, Laurent."

"Nice to meet you too, Mister." Laurent said softly.

Quillish got up and walked out of the library.

"Well?" Sylvia asked as Quillish approached.

"Can I come back tomorrow?"

"Of course," Sylvia's face broke into a grin.


	2. Observation

**A/N: Hey, all. Just wanted to say thanks again for reading my story. This chapter's shorter, but I hope that you still enjoy it. **

**You know, I never thought adults gave children enough credit... contrary to popular belief, children do think.**

Chapter 2: Observation

When Quillish Wammy had left, Laurent found it a little harder to keep reading his book. His mind kept on going back to the rather short conversation he had with the man. Why would Mr. Wammy pick him out of so many other children to talk to? It didn't make much sense. Hardly any grown-ups (besides the Clark sisters) ever noticed he existed, much less tried to talk to him.

Mr. Wammy even brought up adoption. That was far more than he ever dreamed possible.

Laurent fiddled with a corner of the page he was on. He never found himself to be very special, so he figured it was no wonder that he was hardly ever looked at before. He wasn't exceptional, he just… existed.

If that was the case, though, why did Mr. Wammy spend any time on him? Why did he actually seem happy to do so?

Laurent gave a soft sigh and slid off the chair, deciding that it was stupid to try to read anymore when his mind was obviously distracted. He pushed the book back onto the shelf and turned around, only to be startled by a pair of bright blue eyes. Laurent jumped and gave a little yelp of surprise as the young boy before him grinned.

"Hi, Laurent!" the boy beamed.

"Hi, Charlie," Laurent responded shakily, "You scared me."

Charlie continued to smile, though embarrassment seemed to make its way into his grin, "Yeah, sorry about that, I didn't mean to."

"I know…"

Charlie's pure smile returned instantly as he gave a little excited jump, "Hey, I saw that grown-up talk to you earlier. What did he say? Did he want to adopt you?"

"I think so."

"That's great!" Charlie laughed. He bounced slightly, making it was obvious that he was trying to contain his joy. The blond boy was always very thrilled whenever one of the kids had a chance at being adopted, and he always hoped that everyone would be just as excited when his turn came. "So…" he continued, his eyes bright, "…where are you going to live?"

Laurent shook his head, "He only wanted to adopt me."

"He only wanted to adopt you…?" Charlie asked, puzzled, "You mean… you said no?"

"Well… I didn't say no… but I didn't say yes…" Laurent looked slightly uncomfortable, "I don't think it was a real question…"

Charlie gave a loud sigh and flipped his head back, "Laurent…" he moaned, "You're not s'pposed to do that sort of stuff."

"I didn't know him, though," Laurent said defensively, "Weren't you ever told not to go with strangers?"

"People who want to adopt you aren't strangers, they're _nice_," Charlie said a little irritably, "Geez, Laurent. You'll never get adopted if you act like that."

Laurent looked down, a little embarrassed. "Sorry," he apologized.

Charlie's face broke into a grin, "S'alright. I heard Miss Sylvia talking to Miss Ruth. I think he's coming back tomorrow."

"He's coming back tomorrow?" Laurent asked, looking up, slightly shocked.

"Yeah, you know, you were the only kid he talked to. He musta liked you a lot!" Charlie beamed.

Laurent blinked. _I was the only kid he talked to?_ He really wasn't used to this. Whenever grown-ups would talk to him, and it wasn't especially often, it was more out of politeness than anything else. They would smile at him, but the smiles always seemed forced. When they asked him questions, it was more because they felt obligated to than to actually get any answers. Laurent could tell that they hardly even listened to his responses… for they would simply nod and stare right on through him, their fake smiles plastered upon their faces like grotesque masks. Laurent made people uncomfortable and he knew it.

He had wondered frequently why they bothered talking to him at all. They obviously didn't like it, so why would they torture themselves? Was it a way to make him feel better about himself? Was it a way to make him feel like he wasn't left out?

Laurent had never really felt left out when people ignored him. In fact, he hardly noticed it when they did. He was far too wrapped up in his books or in his play to even consider it. However, when people would approach him because he looked "lonely" or "sad," he was reminded that people didn't normally approach him. When they spoke to him with obvious fake interest in his well-being, he was reminded of how uncomfortable he made people. When people were around, he realized how different he was.

Mr. Wammy wasn't like the other people, though. When he smiled at him, it didn't seem fake. It was as though the man really did want to smile at him, as though he actually liked him.

Laurent liked that. He really did.

"Hey, Laurent, you in there?" Charlie asked, giving the little boy a playful jab with his elbow.

"Yeah," Laurent smiled, coming back to the real world and jabbing the boy back.

"Don't mess up tomorrow, 'kay?" Charlie laughed. "Come on, dinner's soon."

Laurent followed Charlie out of the small library and into the main room, where faint smells of Miss Ruth's cooking could already be detected.

"Spaghetti…" Charlie grinned, sniffing the air. He turned to Laurent. "Come on, let's hurry and wash up. We got to get down there fast!" Charlie grabbed Laurent's wrist and led him quickly to the bathroom.

Charlie was always a rather puzzling person to Laurent. The blond boy was a very nice kid, and many grown-ups were fond of him. In fact, he was always one of the first children people would go to talk to. He was constantly energetic and eager to please, and no one ever could hold a grudge on him for more than a few minutes. It was amazing the boy hadn't been adopted yet.

Laurent personally found Charlie's excess of energy to be tiring on many occasions. Charlie, however, didn't seem to mind Laurent's apparent lack of it. In fact, Charlie seemed to think of it as a challenge. He took great pains to make try to get Laurent to "cheer up."

Laurent had always wondered how this boy came to the decision to hang around with _him_ of all people. Surely Charlie would be more at home with someone a little more energetic, a little louder, a little happier. That would make sense.

Charlie, however, didn't seem to ever _want_ to make real sense. That puzzled Laurent all the more.

* * *

><p>After dinner, it was time to get ready for bed. Charlie and Laurent went upstairs together as they always did. As they brushed their teeth, Laurent began to really wonder <em>why<em> Charlie seemed to like him so much. It was always something that he would question, but never very deeply. Charlie really had nothing in common with him, spare his age. Laurent's brow furrowed in thought.

Charlie noticed the peculiar expression on Laurent's face in the mirror, "Hey, what's wrong?" He asked after spitting out his toothpaste.

Laurent spat out his own toothpaste, "Nothing," he said, and then he rinsed out his mouth. He was still for a few seconds. "Well… I was wondering… Charlie, why do you like me?"

"Why?" Charlie repeated, and he rinsed out his mouth, "I like you because I like you."

"But… why?"

"Do I need a reason?" Charlie asked.

Laurent blinked, _of course. I always need a reason…_

Charlie grinned at Laurent's confused expression, "Well, I guess you're interesting, that's all."

_"Interesting?" _Laurent thought, "Do you think that's why Mr. Wammy likes me?"

Charlie burst out laughing, "You're so weird!" he grinned. "Is it really that hard to believe that people like you?"

Laurent looked down, "Well…" _yes?_

Charlie grinned, "You're a funny kid, Laurent. That's another thing I like about you."


	3. Decision

**A/N: I want to take some time and thank all of you (yet again) for reading this story. This first part is a bit more difficult to write than I had first envisioned, but I shall keep going.**

**I hope you all enjoy it enough to keep reading, and if you would be so kind as to leave review, I would greatly appreciate it. **

**Please, enjoy my story.**

Chapter 3: Decision

"Mr. Wammy!" Sylvia beamed as she opened the door, letting Quilish into the orphanage. "You're back! Laurent really must have had an effect on you."

Qullish took off his hat and gave her a little bow, "Why, but of course," he smiled. Then, he turned to hang his hat and coat upon the rack.

Sylvia's bright smile seemed to get even brighter at those words. "He's outside with everyone else. Come on, I'll take you there."

With that, Sylvia took Quillish through the building and out of a rear entrance to a playground of modest size. It was completely closed off from the rest of the world by a chain-link fence that was overtaken by weeds.

"This place was a school once," Sylvia said, looking around, "I'm not sure what caused them to move out, but I'm grateful. The kids have someplace to play here." The structures seemed ancient, slightly rusted and rotten, but they still held an air of nobility. It rather reminded Quillish of the ruins of London.

The children paid no mind to this spectacle as they were busy kicking a soccer ball around the relics of the old playground. Most of them were, at least. Little Laurent was crouching on the edge of the play area, just before the wall of weeds. He was staring quite intently at the grass below him.

Sylvia gave Quillish a little shove, "You can go and talk to him if you like. I'm sure he won't mind," she said.

Quillish smiled at Sylvia then made his way over to the little boy. He kneeled down and followed the child's gaze to a patch of dirt. "What's so interesting, Laurent?" he asked.

The child looked up, startled by the man's sudden appearance. "Hello, Sir," he said, "I was just watching ants."

"Ants? Is that so?" Quillish asked, looking closely at the ground, "They are rather interesting aren't they? One of my friends likes them so much that he actually has a job watching them."

"Really?" Laurent asked, looking up.

"Yes. People pay him a lot of money to stare at ants and tell them what they do," Quillish said, "It's called entomology."

"What's his name?"

"Roger," Quillish responded, "But he prefers to be called 'Doctor Ruvie.'"

"Oh."

The two slipped into a comfortable silence as they became absorbed in watching the tiny insects. That is, until Charlie, who was playing with the others, realized that Mr. Wammy was there.

"Hello, Sir!" Charlie yelled, running over to them, his soccer game suddenly forgotten. Quillish looked up to the see the energetic blond race up to them and stop just short of running them over. Charlie beamed at Laurent, "You see? I told you he'd be back!" he then turned to face Quillish, his smile bright as ever, "It's nice to meet you, Mister! I'm Charlie, one of Laurent's friends. He doesn't talk much, but he's a real nice kid! You should adopt him!"

He shot a smile at Laurent, who suddenly seemed more interested in the dirt than anything else. Charlie was obviously embarrassing him. Quillish, however, laughed. "Is that so, Charlie?" he asked, reaching up to ruffle the child's hair, "It's good to know that Laurent has friends like you. I already know what kind of kid he is, though, that's why I came back."

Charlie grinned, trying haphazardly to fix his hair, "I thought so, Mister," he laughed. "So, what are you guys doing?"

"Watching ants…" Laurent responded.

"Hmm, really?" Charlie asked, crouching down to take a look.

However, Charlie, being the bundle of energy that he was, could hardly stare at the ants for more than two seconds before he decided that the activity was boring. He leapt up again, "Well, it was nice meeting you, Mister! I'm gonna go play soccer again!" With that, Charlie ran off to join the rest of the children, who were quite pleased at his return.

"He's a spirited one," Quillish commented. Laurent nodded.

"Most grown-ups like him," Laurent said, trying to get an ant to crawl up his finger.

"That so?"

"Yes. He's the first kid most everyone goes to."

"Really, now?"

"Yes."

With that, the two continued to simply stare at the ants.

* * *

><p>Quillish returned to the orphanage the next day, throwing Sylvia into a fit of happiness when she opened the door. "You're back again!" she pointed out excitedly, stepping aside to let the man in.<p>

"That I am, Ma'am," Quillish smiled, giving his usual bow before he hung up his hat and coat.

"Laurent really likes you, you know," Sylvia said, "He's been smiling more ever since you showed up."

"That so?" Quillish asked, "Well, so have I."

"Have you decided yet? Do you want to start the process?" Sylvia asked.

"Not yet," Quillish replied.

That was how it went for days. Sylvia grew increasingly more excited whenever Quillish would show up at the doorstep, but he would always wave off actually starting the adoption procedure. Quillish wanted to wait until he was absolutely sure Laurent wanted it, too. The boy was difficult to read, and because of that, Quillish couldn't be completely positive that the child truly liked him.

As for Laurent, he immensely enjoyed Mr. Wammy's visits. He felt like he could just be himself with Mr. Wammy around without feeling strangely out-of-place. He could ask Mr. Wammy questions that weren't responded with a simple "because," or "I don't know," and Mr. Wammy never complained or even commented about Laurent's quietness. Also, as an added bonus, every time Mr. Wammy left, he would tell Laurent about another item he had invented. Laurent liked this newfound feeling of total acceptance. He liked Mr. Wammy.

Of course, Mr. Wammy never asked him, so Laurent assumed that he knew.

That was, until one day. It was a little drizzly outside, so they sat in the main room playing a game of checkers. As Quillish kinged one of Laurent's pieces, he asked a question he hadn't in a while, "Laurent, how would you like to be adopted?"

Laurent looked up from the checkerboard, surprise evident on his face.

"It's only a question," Quillish said, moving one of his pieces, "If you don't want to be, I understand."

Laurent was silent as he let his eyes drift over the board. Mr. Wammy had asked him if he wanted to be adopted. _Yes,_ he immediately thought. If Mr. Wammy adopted him, he wouldn't have to look forward to him showing up every day. He would always be there. He would be there to read with him, play with him, answer his questions… and never leave. He wouldn't be left alone at the end of the day, as he had so often. He didn't want to be alone anymore.

Laurent looked up and with a smile on his face he said, "I do."

Quillish smiled. "I always hoped you would."

With that, they finished up their checkers game.

As Quillish left the main room that day, he told Sylva his decision. Sylvia was absolutely ecstatic. Hardly able to contain herself, she suddenly snagged Quillish by the wrist and pulled him into the office just off the side of the foyer. She babbled excitedly all the way there, telling him just how thrilled she was and how happy she was for him. When they made it to their destination, Sylvia let go of Quillish to introduce him to her older sister.

The woman seemed unfazed that her youngest sister had pulled a man into her office by his wrist, so it must have been a normal occurrence. She approached him and shook his hand warmly, "Hello, I'm Elizabeth Clark, the one in charge of finances and paperwork."

"I'm Quillish Wammy, pleased to meet you." Quillish responded.

"The pleasure is all mine," Elizabeth smiled, "Now, if you would please follow me."

Elizabeth sat Quillish down in a chair right before her desk, which was rather old and worn. After he was situated, she began opening the drawers of one of the many filing cabinets that filled the office. "You want to adopt Laurent, is that right?" she asked.

"How did you know?"

"Sylvia. She likes to tell me about prospective parents, and she said you took a shine to him," she pulled out a manila folder and carried it over to the desk. She sat down and pushed her glasses up her nose. "This is his file," she explained, "It's got all of his known history."

She opened the folder and glanced over the information, "This makes things easier," she mumbled, "Laurent has no surviving family that we know about."

Quillish blinked, "Really?"

"Yes, apparently his mother and father died in a car accident when he was about two and a half years old. He was in the car, too, but miraculously he survived with minimal injuries," she looked down the page, "According to this, he has no grandparents or aunts or uncles or anything."

Elizabeth looked up, tucking her hair that had come loose from her bun behind her ear. "As morbid as this sounds, this will mean less paperwork for you."

Quillish blinked, a little shocked, and just like that, the adoption process began.


	4. Settling

**A/N: Thank you for all of your support! This will probably be the last "set up" chapter I will write, so expect to see the story begin soon. I hope you will enjoy this one, and if you would be so kind as to write a review, I would greatly appreciate it. Now, on with the show.**

Chapter 4: Settling

The paperwork was tiring and troublesome, to say the absolute least. Along with that, there were fees, waiting periods, court dates… a mess of things that Quillish had to pay careful attention to or he risked having to start the entire procedure from the beginning. It was a lot of trouble to adopt a child, and it would have been more so had he not claimed dual citizenship in the UK and US.

Quillish sighed as he rubbed his temples tiredly. If he didn't have Elizabeth (and a handful of friends in the legal profession) he would surely have gone mad. It was all worth it, though. All of the headaches, the late nights, the long phone calls and the jargon-riddled discussions were worth it. Laurent was worth it.

* * *

><p>It had been spring when Quillish had started the process. When it had finally ended, it was the dead of winter. It would have taken much longer if Quillish hadn't known a few well-seasoned lawyers who helped him avoid many legal traps. It certainly wasn't an enjoyable experience for them, though.<p>

"There was a reason I didn't go into this part of the law," one by the name of William Terry had said while shuffling papers and giving Quillish a dirty look, "Thank you for reminding me of it."

Quillish had given them all rather generous gifts for their trouble.

* * *

><p>The boy clutched onto the man's hand, gazing up at the enormous building. Snow was falling softly, but the cold didn't seem to affect either of them.<p>

"Here we are, Laurent," Quillish said.

Laurent's wide eyes got even bigger, "This is where we're going to live?"

Quillish laughed, "Certainly."

Laurent stared in shocked silence. His eyes drifted downward, "It's happening," he said softly, "It's really happening."

The man looked down at the little boy and gave a small smile. _It finally sunk in, didn't it?_

"Does this mean I have to call you 'Dad?'" the little boy asked quietly.

He looked up to meet the man's gaze. "Do you want to call me 'Dad?'" Quillish asked him.

"Aren't I supposed to?" was the response.

"Not if you don't want to."

The little boy was silent for a few seconds as he thought it over. Did he want to think of Quillish Wammy as a father? The quesiton buzzed in Laurent's head for a moment, then suddenly, Laurent's face broke into a smile, "I think I will," he decided.

Quillish smiled, "I'm glad."

It was at that moment that Laurent Wammy had finally decided to step into his new life.

Now, the complications were far from over. It was very difficult to take an adopted American to live overseas, but Quillish's friends in law told him that it wasn't impossible. "There's always a way to beat the system," Oliver Bromski had said with a wink. However, while they were busy sorting out the legal mess, Laurent wasn't allowed to leave his home country.

That was perfectly alright for Quillish. He had houses in many countries just for the sake of having them. (Mostly it was due to the goading of his brothers and sisters, who were constantly going on about having vacation homes to visit.) If anything, Quillish was actually happy that the house they would be staying in would finally get some use.

He led the small boy up the winding drive, watching out of the corner of his eye as Laurent excitedly looked around. Everywhere his inexperienced eyes landed there was a new wonder to behold, and he tried very hard to take it all in at once.

When they reached the door, Quillish gave three solid knocks, stepped back and waited. After a moment's time, they heard some faint clicks on the other side of the door, followed then by the turning of the knob. The door opened just slightly. "Yes?" a male voice asked.

"Phineas, I trust that you have been keeping the house in good condition?" Quillish asked.

The door was yanked open, "Mister Wammy!" the man on the other side of the door gasped, "So good to see you after all of this time!"

"Likewise," smiled Quillish.

Laurent gazed up at the stranger confusedly and pulled a little closer to his adoptive father. Quillish looked down. "Ah, yes," he looked back up at the man, "Phineas, this is Laurent. He's my son," he looked back down at Laurent, "Laurent, this is Phineas. He's been taking care of the house while I've been away."

Phineas stared at Laurent for a long while, "You have a kid? Does this mean you finally got married?" Phineas asked.

Quillish shook his head, "I adopted him," he explained. "Now, could we come in? It's really rather cold out here."

"Of course! Of course!" Phineas said, moving out of the way to allow them inside, "This is just so unexpected! I have to find everyone else! They'll be so surprised to see you, I know I was."

"That would be wonderful," Quillish smiled.

"Could I take your coats? Your hat?" he looked at Laurent, "Your scarf?"

"Thank you, Phineas," Quillish said, taking off his hat and coat, "You really are too kind."

"Thank you," Laurent said quietly, taking of his coat and scarf and handing them to the man. Phineas smiled, "The pleasure is all mine, sirs," and with that, he left to put the coats away. The two left in the foyer proceeded to take off their boots and put them on the mat next to the door.

"He reminds me of Miss Sylvia," Laurent said quietly.

"He is rather similar, isn't he?" laughed Quillish, "Now, then. We should probably go to the den, that's where they'll want to meet us."

"Who are 'they?'" Laurent asked.

"The caretakers of the house," responded Quillish, taking the boy by the hand and leading him deeper into the house.

Quillish could count how many times he had been to this particular house on one hand, and his relatives could probably do the same. As such, the house needed someone to look after it while he couldn't, and therefore he hired the caretakers. Their job was to keep the house and yard clean and tidy, and their reward for the work was being allowed to live there, along with a rather generous salary.

Because of this, the caretakers were rather fond of the man, and it didn't take long for Phineas to find everyone so they could say hello.

As Quillish had predicted, the caretakers filed into the den just as he and Laurent had settled themselves in. They all stopped short (with the exception of Phineas, who already knew) when their eyes drifted over Laurent.

Immediately, five pairs of confused eyes turned to Phineas, "You didn't tell us about the boy," a middle-aged woman said.

"Uhm," Phineas said nervously.

"He's cute!" squealed a younger woman, running over to Laurent and patting him on the head, "What's your name, Sweetie?"

"L-Laurent," he stuttered out, wondering why this strange woman was petting him and deciding that he didn't like it very much.

"That's an awesome name," the woman sighed, removing her hand from his head. Laurent breathed out softly in relief, "I wish I had a name like that, but no… I had to be stuck with the name Alice. I mean… Alice. Really. Sounds like an old woman's name."

"Mr. Wammy… have you…?" an older man asked, raising an eyebrow incredulously.

"No, I'm not married," Quillish said again, "I adopted him."

"So, what brings you around here?" the middle-aged woman asked, "I haven't seen you in years."

"Well… it's for legal reasons, mostly. I can't take Laurent to the UK until I get a couple things sorted out… and since I have a house here, I have decided to use it."

"I don't mind at all!" Alice squealed, picking up Laurent and hugging him. He gave a squeak of displeasure, "I always wanted a little brother! We're going to be best friends, aren't we, Laurent?"

"I…I…I…" Laurent stuttered, wanting nothing more than to be put down and not touched again.

"Alice, leave the child alone! He's obviously tired from the trip," another older woman scolded, "Honestly, you should be able to control yourself by now."

"Sorry, Ma'am…" Alice said, putting Laurent back down upon his chair.

"Gregory, Phineas, if you don't mind… could you help me get the suitcases from the car?" Quillish asked, getting up from his seat.

"No problem, sir," Phineas said. The other older man nodded. With that, the three men left the den.

"Pshh…" said the only person who hadn't spoken yet, another young woman, "Why doesn't he ever ask me to do any of the heavy lifting?"

"He hasn't seen you in years, Veronica, he doesn't know how strong you've become…" the first middle-aged woman said, trying to calm the girl down before anything happened.

"I don't understand why you would want to go out in the cold and the snow…" Alice said, folding her arms, "…'specially since we've got a guest to entertain."

The four women looked at Laurent. He gazed up at them, "Uh…" he said.

"We might as well introduce ourselves, then," the first middle-aged woman said, "My name is Esther."

"Josephine," the other older woman said with a nod.

"Veronica," Veronica said.

"You know my name already, it's Alice," Alice said.

"It's nice to meet all of you," Laurent said nervously.

"So nice to meet you, too!" squealed Alice. She gave a little hop but managed to keep herself from trying to hug the boy again. She turned to the other women, "Isn't he just so cute?" she grinned. The three gave half-spirited shrugs.

Laurent gazed at them all again. These people were his new family, or as close to it as he would get. Would he like it here?

Then, he was reminded of Quillish Wammy… _Dad… Father…_

Wherever that man was, Laurent would want to be.

He liked Quillish Wammy. He liked him a lot.


	5. Companions

Chapter 5: Companions

Laurent sat on Quillish's shoulders as they went through town. Night was slowly falling and the Christmas lights draped from shop rooftops were already beginning to glow. The holiday had passed just recently, but the townspeople were hesitant to take down the decorations. The bright, colorful lights brought a sense of warmth to the cold, dreary winter… a sense of warmth the people didn't want to lose just yet.

The reason for the trip to town was so that Quillish and Laurent could familiarize themselves with the area. As Quillish hadn't been there in years, many things had changed. There were far more shops around than he remembered, and many of the ones he did remember were no longer there. He found himself being turned around a lot, mostly because he could no longer find a specific landmark that had been there before. It was a fun adventure, though. He especially liked hearing Laurent's gasps of appreciation at every new spectacle.

As they neared town square, church bells began to toll.

Quillish felt Laurent shift slightly, "Do you hear that?" Laurent asked, "The bells?"

"Yes," Quillish responded as he continued to walk, "They're lovely, aren't they?"

Laurent was silent as he listened. The peals were loud and intricate; they reverberated sharply off the walls of the buildings, but were softened by the presence of the snow. It was so beautiful, so otherworldly.

As the last chime faded into nothingness, Laurent let out a sigh.

"I heard bells like that a long time ago," Laurent said quietly, "before I lived with the Clark Sisters."

"You were very young then," observed Quillish.

"Yeah..." Laurent said. He paused in thought, listening as the snow crunched under Quillish's boots. "Y'know, I remember hearing bells like that the day I met you, too."

"Really?" asked Quillish.

"Yes," Laurent said quietly, "They sound pretty, don't they?"

"They do indeed."

* * *

><p>"This is no fun…" Alice whined at Quillish a week later, "Laurent avoids me like the plague."<p>

"He's not a very social boy, no," Quillish responded, "But don't worry, we'll be out of your hair soon. Then, you won't have to worry about being snubbed by a five-year-old again."

The legal process was working smoothly, and at a brisk pace. The adoption part was the hard bit, according to most of Quillish's friends in law. Getting in was the trick, but now they were situated; they just had to pull the right strings.

As time went on, Laurent wandered around the house, exploring every nook and cranny he could find. The house was obscenely big, so there were lots of places to see. Multiple bathrooms, a sprawling library, many guest bedrooms, a large kitchen…Though Laurent took a lot of pleasure from looking about, he began to question something.

"Why would one person need such a big house?" Laurent asked one night as Quillish sat in an armchair, casually glancing over that day's paper.

"Would you believe that many people go through their entire lives and never ask that question?" Quillish responded, folding the newspaper he was reading and setting it aside.

Laurent frowned, "Well, then… why did you need a big house?" he asked.

"Me?" Quillish asked. He looked up for a few seconds, "I suppose I don't. I never actually use this house…so I never really needed it."

The little boy blinked, "Really? Did you just think that you needed it?"

"There's a difference between a want and a need," Quillish said, picking up the boy and setting him on his lap, "A want is something that you, well… want… but it's something you can live without. You may want a new toy, for instance, but you can live without it, right?"

The little boy nodded.

"A need is something that you can't do without. A need is something that you have to have or you stop being able to live," Quillish continued, "for example, we need food. We don't need expensive food or especially tasty food… but we do need it. It's very much the same for this house. I really didn't need it when I bought it."

"Why did you want it, then?" Laurent asked.

Quillish laughed, "For the sake of having it, I suppose. People are like that, Laurent. They sometimes want things for no real reason other than wanting them. It's when they get the things that it becomes a bit of a problem."

"Why?"

"When you want things just for the sake of wanting things, once you get them, you don't really feel happy about it. Now that you have it, you've finished. There's nothing left to do but to want something else. I'm sure that's happened to you at least once."

The young boy nodded slowly.

"I sometimes wonder why people care so much about these sorts of things," Quillish said softly, "You can't take it with you, after all."

The little boy was silent for a few seconds, "I see," was what he said. Silence fell upon the room, only broken by the soft crackling of the fire in the fireplace.

"Now," Quillish said, taking the boy in his arms and standing up. "It's time that you got to sleep."

"I'm not tired," Laurent protested.

"An attitude like that won't get you a story," was Quillish's response.

* * *

><p>"YOU WHAT?" the shriek from the phone's speaker could be heard clear across the room. Quillish pulled the telephone away from his head, his ear smarting.<p>

He tentatively pulled the phone nearer to his mouth, "I adopted someone?" his response coming out as a question.

"I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME!" the person on the other line roared, "I THOUGHT THAT THIS WAS JUST SOMETHING THAT YOU WERE JUST THINKING ABOUT DOING, NOT SOMETHING YOU WOULD ACTUALLY DO!"

"I was looking for a few years," Quillish said, holding the phone a good distance from his head with one hand and massaging the bridge of his nose with the other. Perhaps it was a good thing that Laurent wasn't allowed to go to the UK just yet.

"I THOUGHT THAT WAS JUST AN ECCENTRIC BILLIONARE SORT OF THING! SOMETHING ALL YOU PEOPLE DID YOU GET ATTENTION OR SOMETHING!"

"Jane, please. You'll hurt your vocal cords."

"SO WHAT IF I DO?" the woman screamed. She cussed loudly, "YOU ALREADY HAD PEOPLE TO INHERIT THE FORTUNE! WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST CHOOSE ONE OF THEM?"

"I thought I told you that I wanted to adopt," Quillish sighed.

"I DON'T CARE!"

"Jane, you should really be more optimistic about getting a new nephew," Quillish said weakly.

"I DON'T WANT A NEW NEPHEW!"

"I'm sorry to hear that. You have one."

The woman began cursing loudly over the phone.

"It's been lovely chatting with you, Jane."

"OH, SHUT UP, YOU STUPID GI—" _click._

Quillish leaned back into his chair and sighed heavily, covering his face with both of his hands.

"Family troubles?" a voice asked.

Quillish removed his hands from his face and straightened up. Esther looked in from the doorway, seeming rather concerned. Quillish forced a smile.

"Actually, she took the news rather well," he said weakly, "She's the least excitable of the lot, really."

"Honestly, I have no idea how those people could be your family," Esther said, shaking her head, "I could hear that ghastly hag shrieking from down the hall."

Quillish nodded, "You understand why I don't want to give them any money," he sighed, rubbing his temples, "They're all mad." He sighed again and reached for the phone.

"You're not honestly going to call another one!" Esther cried in disbelief.

"I have to. They're my family. They should have been the first to know," Quillish said with a look of chagrin etched on his face.

* * *

><p>After almost going deaf in one ear after his siblings were done screaming, Quillish Wammy gave loud, deep sigh. There was a reason why he put this off as long as he did: he knew none of them would take it well. He simply knew it. They all asked the same things, each with various degrees of cursing and shouting: "Are you out of your mind?" and "Why couldn't my child be your heir?"<p>

The answers to those questions were: "No," and "Because your children are just as crazy as you are."

He never liked his immediate family very much. They were all loud, excitable people with strong senses of entitlement. They all married people much like themselves and had children that could pass off as them at an earlier time. Of course, as a result of having so many loud people together, there was always some sort of fight going on between them. The family gatherings weren't complete without a few traded blows. Quillish was amazed that none of his siblings had gotten divorces, for some of their spouses seemed even madder than they were.

_I wonder why I was fortunate enough not to end up like them…_ Quillish thought, covering his face with his hands once more. He frowned, _I guess it could be considered a curse not to be like them, too…_ he amended, _After all, if I were like them, I wouldn't find anything wrong with them, and they most certainly wouldn't find as much wrong with me…_

Quillish wondered briefly if his family was the reason why he chose Laurent to be his heir. The boy was as far from them as someone could get. He was logical, quiet and calm as opposed to mad, loud and excited. The boy was his family far more than his blood relatives ever were.

It was just then that Laurent wandered into the room. "Hi," he said.

Quillish gave a soft smile, removing his hands from his face, "Hello."

Laurent walked up to his adoptive father and smiled at him. "Do you want to play checkers?" he asked hopefully.

"I would love to," Quillish said, getting up from his seat.

It didn't matter how crazy his family was, Quillish decided. As far as he was concerned, they weren't really his family anyway.

**A/N: I'd like to thank you all for your continuing support of this story.**


	6. Conversations

**A/N: Sorry everyone for not updating as quickly as I usually do. I got a little busy. This chapter is a bit of a filler chapter... I'm sorry. **

**Right now, I feel that I'm dragging this on a little too long. However, I figured that a transition now would be a little too soon. In any case, I hope you continue to read and enjoy this story.**

Chapter 6: Conversations

"Hello," a voice on the other line said.

"Hello, Roger. This is Quillish Wammy," Quillish said calmly.

"Quillish? Is it really you? I haven't heard from you in ages! How are you?" the man on the other end, Roger Ruvie, cried excitedly into the phone.

"I've been doing well, and you?"

"Fine, fine! Quillish, I heard you adopted a kid."

Quillish leaned back in his chair, "How did you know, Roger?"

"Oh, I heard from a couple friends we have in common," Roger said easily, "So… all of those things you were spouting about all those years ago… you actually acted upon them. I don't quite understand it."

Quillish shifted, putting the phone in a more comfortable position, "Well… I wanted an heir. All of my things will go to waste without one."

Roger laughed, "I see, and your family is completely batty, so you can't trust them… is the child the reason you're not back yet?"

"Yes, American adoption laws are absolutely horrible," sighed Quillish, "I promise that you'll meet him sometime. Anyway, the reason why I called was to ask you about the school. How are your students lately?"

Roger growled, "The brats are fine, I suppose."

"Now, now, Roger…"

"Quillish, honestly, I have no idea why you voluntarily agreed to take one as your own," Roger mumbled, "Children are absolutely horrible."

"Then why did you agree to run the school?"

"Money?"

"Of course."

"Well, I can't live completely off of grants, can I?" sighed Roger, "I want to, though. Insects are far more fascinating than these children… smarter, too."

"You don't mean that," Quillish said.

"I do," Roger sighed, "The only reason why over half of the children are here is because their parents are rich."

Quillish sighed, "That so?"

"That is so! You haven't been here in a while, have you?"

"I suppose not. I have been rather busy…"

"I noticed. You see, Quillish…"

The school in question was a private boarding school that Quillish had founded when he was an idealistic youngster in his late twenties. Its official name was Wammy Institute, and its purpose was to groom children of superior intellect into important members of society. Quillish had hoped that it would populate with aspiring inventors, scientists and engineers: the people that would build the future. For the first few years, it seemed on the right track.

However, as time went on, as Roger informed him, politics began sticking its much-unwanted hand into their affairs. Most of it had to do with funds from donors. Money became the first priority; the ideals upon which the school had been based were thoroughly ignored. It didn't matter how intellectually gifted you were, just who you knew and how much your parents were willing to pay. Quillish took this news in stride. It was bound to happen someday. All people given forms of power liked to abuse it. That's why he reserved the final say. He could go ahead and replace the entire staff if it pleased him… and it did.

"This has just sprung up?"

"Well, it was always around, but it really picked up the years you were gone," Roger said.

"I see." Quillish said, rubbing the back of his neck, "Is there anything else happening over there I need to worry about?"

"None that I can think of," Roger said, "But if you're wondering about me, I'm itching to receive another research grant…"

"You and your ants," laughed Quillish.

"Ants are very fascinating," Roger said defensively.

"I know, I know," Quillish smiled, he then sighed, "It's been nice talking to you. Take care of yourself, Roger."

"Hey, good luck with the kid, Quillish. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Quillish hung up the phone, then proceeded to stare at it. He certainly was busy, wasn't he? He had spent far too much time away from the school to not notice the petty politics until they had already gotten that far. Quillish felt horrible, as though he had failed the school and its students. Well… all of the deserving students, anyway…however many there were. Then again, Roger was rather biased against children; the situation possibly wasn't as bad as he made it out to be. Quillish supposed it was time to do a little research.

_I wonder if Laurent would do well there…_ Quillish pondered as he got up from his seat. Quillish had wanted to enroll the boy from the beginning. He was definitely a smart one.

* * *

><p>"Okay, watch very closely," Alice said, flattening out the small square of paper on the desk in front of her. Laurent, who was sitting next to the caretaker, was staring intently at her hands.<p>

"First, you fold the paper like this, open it up, then fold it again like this, and then like this…" Alice mumbled, her fingers pressing and flattening the paper expertly, "You move it like this, pull this here…" she continued in concentration as Laurent watched, completely entranced.

"Ta-da," she said after a short while, showing off a perfect origami bird, "What do you think? You can have this one."

The little boy took it in his hands and gazed at it, causing a little squeak of happiness to well up in Alice's throat. "It's beautiful…" he said softly.

"Watch, if you pull its tail, its wings move," Alice said, pulling the bird's tail slightly. The boy's eyes lit up in excitement as he began to play with it. To think that Alice made this as he watched… it was absolutely amazing.

"Look at that!" the little boy said excitedly, examining it from every angle.

"It's really nothing," Alice said, grinning, "Come on, now you try it. There's a lot of steps, but I'm sure you can do it. What color paper would you like?"

Laurent glanced over the colorful origami paper, his hands still protectively cupping the little bird. "Hm… could I have the gold piece?" he asked, his eyes trailing on the single sheet with a metallic sheen.

Alice smiled as she passed the paper over and grabbed another sheet for herself, "Now, do what I do. First, you fold it like this…"

"Okay…"

It had taken a while, but Alice had found a way to be around Laurent without frightening him. He was very wary of her for the first week; as soon as he saw her he would head in the opposite direction, no matter where that other direction happened to lead. He was not at all looking forward to another forced hug, nor did he enjoy being petted or squealed at. Since these were the only things Alice seemed capable of doing, he was quite certain to stay away from her at all costs. That was… until he noticed that she made paper animals.

It was actually on accident. Alice was bored one night after doing all of her chores, so she pulled out her origami paper, brought it to the den, and began making random animals. Laurent peeked in a little while later to see what she was doing, and was amazed at what he saw. Of course, he was still cautious about getting too close, because the last thing he wanted was for the girl to attack him because she deemed him "cute."

Alice noticed the boy's fascination after a while, and in time they had come to an agreement. He would sit near her and watch her fold, and she wouldn't do anything like squeal or try to hug him. In the end, he was able to observe origami folding up close, and she was able to observe him up close.

"…and there we have it," Alice sighed, showing off her bird, "How's yours coming?"

The little boy held up a lopsided bird a little embarrassedly, "It's not very good…" he mumbled.

"Oh, give it time. You'll get better at it," she took the bird from his hands and looked it over, "It's really not bad at all. Do you know how many times I tried before it even came close to looking like this?" she pulled on its tail experimentally, "Look, I can even make the wings flap, I had the hardest time with this part." she looked at him and grinned.

He smiled back, "Thank you."

"So, anyway… how's school been going?" Alice asked conversationally, taking up a piece of paper to begin another little animal.

"It's fun, I guess…" Laurent responded. Laurent had begun attending the little elementary school in town just recently; he came in right as Christmas break had ended. Laurent wasn't sure what to think of it. The people were friendly enough, he supposed. He much preferred it to be back at his house, though.

"Learn anything new lately?"

"Adding numbers in the tens place," Laurent said distractedly. He was rather busy watching Alice's hands and trying to guess what she was going to make next.

"That's always fun…" laughed Alice.

Laurent nodded, his eyes not leaving the paper for a second. After a little while, Alice presented him with another paper masterpiece.


	7. Flight

**A/N: I'm sorry for the delay, everyone. I was very busy lately and I had no time to write. You don't have to worry, I have no plans to abandon this story. I hope you continue to read and enjoy my work.**

Chapter 7: Flight

Laurent enjoyed the library more than any other room in the house. He would pull the heavy science books off of the shelves in the library and stare intently at them. He could hardly read any of the text, for the words were large and foreign, and there were so many. He did, however, enjoy staring at the photographs and trying to come up with what sorts of secrets were hidden within that marvelous, unreadable text. He spent most of his time like that, hardly ever walking out of the library unless he absolutely had to.

That baffled Alice more than anything. "He should go outside and run around with the rest of the boys in town," she told Quillish one afternoon, "Why does he spend so much time in there?"

"Why don't you ask him?" Quillish responded.

She always asked him. The answer was always the same: "I want to."

Time went by and things hardly changed. Laurent would spend hours poring over the texts riddled with unknown jargon, and passed the rest of them in fantasy worlds crafted by marvelous minds. It seemed that he spent far more time in his head than in the real world. It didn't bother Quillish in the slightest, but it seemed to perplex Alice, his teachers and his classmates.

Though it was said he got along well enough with people, Laurent still liked spending his time completely alone. No… it was rather that he craved it. That made him rather unpopular, but he hardly noticed, for the idea of peers didn't quite register in his head. Like everyone else, he had people he liked and people he didn't, but unlike the other children, he didn't put as much effort into those relationships. They were there, and that was all.

Of course, there were still loud children, like Charlie, who were curious about him and would spend time following him around and trying to make sense of his actions. Reading, observing, wandering around on the playground and watching as a third party as other boys and girls played… After a while, even the most curious of the children would quit trying and would leave not understanding why he did what he did.

His teachers were impressed by how much he knew and how much he wanted to know. However, Laurent couldn't help but feel that there was something off about them. They acted a lot like the adults who came to the orphanage; they seemed uncomfortable with his presence. It didn't matter to Laurent as much as it had, though. Quillish was in his life now.

Three years had passed in this manner and the two were still in America. After quite a few months of working, Quillish's friends in law had hit a rather challenging roadblock, and some even began lowering the job on their priority lists. It didn't bother either Quillish or Laurent very much. Any business Quillish had could be attended to over the phone, and Laurent was content wherever he happened to be.

* * *

><p>One morning, Quillish was preparing breakfast as he always did. He was never really comfortable in being waited on, even though Esther had insisted in the beginning. Quillish also happened to enjoy cooking, and he didn't like having his gourmet skills go to waste. That day, he wasn't making anything special, just a couple over-medium eggs for Laurent and himself.<p>

Quillish looked up from the frying pain to see his adoptive son at the counter, same as always. However, the boy was perched in such a way that both of his feet were on the seat of his chair. Quillish laughed silently at the spectacle.

"Why are you sitting like that?" Quillish asked as he put a fried egg onto a plate.

"Like what?" Laurent asked, looking confused.

"You're perching."

"Oh," Laurent said, looking down and noticing his position. He then shrugged, "It's comfortable."

"It certainly doesn't look it," was his adoptive father's response, continuing to cook, "Are you turning into a gargoyle, by chance?"

"The floor's cold," Laurent explained, "I don't like having my bare feet so close to the cold floor."

Quillish laughed, "Well, I suppose no one does." He pushed Laurent's breakfast over to him.

As Quillish began cleaning up, the kitchen phone began to ring. He quickly wiped off his hands and hurried to answer it. Laurent glanced up from his egg.

"Hello?" Quillish asked as he answered.

"Quillish! Great news! We've done it!" a very excited male voice cried out from the speaker.

"You've done what?" Qullish asked, confused, "Wait… is that you, Oliver?"

"What? Yes, yes, I'm Oliver!" the man said animatedly, "We've done it!"

"Done what?" Qulilish asked. Laurent looked at his adoptive father with an expression of curiosity etched on his face.

"It was a real headache, but we finally did it!"

"What?"

"After three years, you're now free to take the kid to the UK!" Oliver shouted.

"What? Really? That's wonderful!" Quillish beamed.

Laurent was really curious now. "What? What's wonderful?" the boy asked.

"You can pack up right now if you wanted to!" Oliver said excitedly. "Everything's finally been taken care of! We did it!"

"Thank you, Oliver; I owe you a lot for this."

Oliver laughed, "It was no trouble, no trouble at all!"

"It took three years!"

"Three years? Three years is nothing! Besides, you had to wait three years, too."

Quillish laughed, "You know I don't just take favors like this."

"Might as well pretend to be humble," Oliver replied, and Quillish could hear his grin through the phone.

"Thank you so much."

"Anytime, there. See you around!"

"Goodbye."

There was a click as Oliver hung up, so Qullish quickly did the same. The man looked up to see the boy's expectant face. "Who was that? What did he say?" Laurent asked.

"That was Oliver Bromski," Quillish said. His face broke into a bigger smile, "Laurent, how would you like to see Great Britain?"

* * *

><p>They decided to take their leave after school was let out for summer vacation. It was just easier that way. Alice was a little saddened to see Laurent go after three years, so the boy allowed her to hug him before he left. It wasn't a very pleasant experience, but he grinned and bore it for her sake.<p>

"Come back and visit?" she asked hopefully.

"When we get the chance," Quillish responded.

"We'll miss having you around," Josephine said. Gregory, Esther and Veronica nodded. They had all grown accustomed to seeing the two.

"And we'll miss you," Quillish said with a nod, "Goodbye, everyone!"

"Goodbye," Laurent said.

Quillish looked down at his adoptive son, "Let's go, Laurent. Phineas is waiting in the car," With that, they were off to catch their flight.

As Laurent slipped into his seat and buckled in, he heard the faint peal of the church bells announcing the hour.

* * *

><p>The house in Great Britain was even bigger than the one in America. Laurent could only stare. "This is where we're going to live now?" he asked, pressing his palm to the cab's window, gazing at the beautiful structure in awe. His dark eyes then wandered to the rather impressive garden that took up the front yard.<p>

"Yes," Quillish smiled, getting out of the cab and waiting for the boy to follow suit. He turned then to the cab driver and said, "We'll only be a moment, and then we'll come back for the bags."

The cab driver smiled, "You're paying me either way."

Quillish nodded.

As he had done a long time ago, Quillish walked up onto the front step, Laurent following behind, and knocked on the door. There was quiet for a few seconds, as was expected, and suddenly the door flew open. "Yes?" the young woman who opened the door asked breathlessly. Her green eyes scanned over the man in surprise, "Mr. Wammy!" she gasped, "You're back!"

"Yes, I am," Quillish said with a smile, "How are you, Caitlin?"

She shifted nervously, "Truthfully…."

There was a loud crash behind her. "Ugh! He really needs to organize his things better!" came a loud, unpleasant female voice.

Quillish blinked and looked over Caitlin's shoulder curiously, "Is that…"

Caitlin's shoulders sagged, "I'm sorry…" she said.

Quillish frowned, "Are the rest of them…?"

Caitlin looked even more apologetic, "I'm afraid so, Sir…"

"How did they…?"

"I don't know, Sir."

Laurent looked from the young woman to his adoptive father incomprehensively, "What's going on?"

Quillish seemed to not hear the boy, and sighed deeply, "Caitlin, could you get Henry and Lucas to get our luggage from the car?"

"Yes, Sir…" Caitlin said, nodding. She then turned and ran into the house.

"What's going on?" Laurent asked again.

Quillish sighed, "Laurent, be prepared to meet some very unpleasant people. Come."

The little boy followed as the man walked into the house. The happiness that had once filled Quillish seemed significantly diminished. As they reached the den, it became apparent why.


	8. Argument

**A/N: I'm sorry I took so long, I really have no excuse. As I have said numerous times before, I want to thank all of you for your continued support of my story, and I hope you continue to read and enjoy it!**

Chapter 8: Argument

The room was filled with people, eight adults and a mess of children of various ages. They all turned to stare as Quillish and Laurent entered. The children were first to react, jumping up all at once from their seats and crowding around the two, climbing over each other to get a good look at the "new kid." They all began talking at once, and then started shouting over each other so that their voices could be heard.

"He's so scrawny!"

"Has he ever been outside?"

"Look at 'im! Just look at 'im!"

"Whatsyername? Whatsyername?"

Laurent yelped as one child grabbed a handful of hair and tugged. He pulled away from the children in a hurry and hid behind Quillish.

Quillish sighed and shook her head, "Hello, everyone."

"That's how you greet us? Just 'hello?'" snapped a rather pudgy woman in the back of the room, "The last time you talked to any of us was three years ago!"

"I would have preferred it to be longer…" Quillish mumbled under his breath, he looked at the woman and put on a civil sort of smile, "It's always a pleasure to see you, Jane."

The woman scoffed, "Wish I could say the same."

Quillish forced out a laugh, "How did any of you even know I'd be here?"

"Friends of friends," a man said coolly, "It's very sad that we have to find out when you are coming home in that manner, right…?"

"I suppose it could be…"

"So, that's the kid that we heard about," growled one of the men, "Certainly doesn't look like anything special."

"Looks can be deceiving, George…" Quillish said easily.

All of the other adults laughed loudly and unpleasantly, "I'd bet!" a mustached man said with a grin, "You seem perfectly sane, but here you are, presenting us with a strange new child that will inherit all of your money!"

"I really find nothing wrong with it, it's my money after all," Quillish said.

"I told you, I told you! He's stark raving mad," growled another woman, folding her arms snugly against her thin frame, "We have all of these heirs, and he just throws them aside without any thought! I thought blood was important to people!"

"Sometimes blood isn't as important as people think…"

"Blood is very important!" roared another man.

Quillish gave a very deep sigh, "I…"

"Do you know what this is like?" Jane asked, frowning, "It's like those stories you always hear about, the billionaires giving all their money to their pets! That's it, isn't it? You just wanted anyone to get the money, as long as we didn't get it, is that right?"

"What I do with my money is of no concern to you."

"Of course it is! We're your family!"

"That makes little difference…"

It was then that everyone began talking at once. The children continued to push and pull one another so that they could get a better look at Laurent, screaming and yelping all the while. Laurent shied away all the more from all the strange creatures, trying to find protection behind his adoptive father. Quillish massaged the bridge of his nose in frustration as his brothers', sisters', and in-laws' voices continued to get louder and louder. They repeated the same tired lines as they always did: "You're crazy," "Why can't we get the money?" Their voices became angrier and angrier, shriller and shriller, noisier and noisier. Finally, Quillish had enough.

"EVERYBODY, PLEASE SHUT UP!" he roared, making everyone jump. Quillish hardly ever raised his voice; it was a quirk that the rest of his family never shared, "It's none of your business what I do with my life," he continued as calmly as he could.

All of the children stared slack-jawed at the man, then quickly hurried back to their parents. They had never seen their uncle act in this way, it was rather frightening. Laurent would have been frightened, too… but the man's anger wasn't directed at him. If anything, Quillish's rage made Laurent feel safer, as though it made sure the other children would be too afraid to touch him.

Unfortunately, many of the adults failed to witness just how upset Quillish was. They figured he had just grown a spine or something, or perhaps he had simply needed to yell to be heard over the din. Well, it was a fact that being heard was part of the reason why he did shout… but it wasn't the only one.

Laurent felt a little braver after the quiet had set in, and walked out from behind Quillish's legs. The man looked down at the young boy and then placed his hand on his shoulder protectively, "Whether you like it or not, Laurent is my heir," Quillish said calmly.

Jane cocked her head to the side, "I guess there's no way around it," she said.

"That's correct."

"Well, then…" Jane continued, walking up to Quillish and Laurent, her blue eyes flashing dangerously, "Let me at least take a good look at the dog you decided to give all of your money to."

Before either of them could react, Jane had already stooped down to Laurent's height. Her breath smelled mostly of stale cigarettes, causing the young boy to gag slightly. The woman's fat hand roughly seized Laurent's chin, then she began to tug his head back and forth, inspecting him as though he were an animal, "He really is nothing special…" she muttered, her eyes scanning the boy's frightened face. She made a move to force open Laurent's mouth to take a look at his teeth, and at that moment, Quillish grabbed his sister's wrist and pulled her away from the boy.

"Don't treat my son in that way," he said, anger bubbling beneath his calm voice.

"Son? HA!" the woman spat, "What breed is he?"

Laurent was still in shock, rubbing his sore face and looking disbelievingly at the woman.

"He is not a dog," growled Quillish, "To even say such a thing… you disgust me."

"_I_ disgust _you?_" the woman snapped.

"Yes."

"Look at him, Quillish. Just look at him. _I'm_ disgusted that you made such a decision!"

"If you can't respect my decisions, get out of my house," the words were calm and cold.

"I…Quillish…" Jane said, eyes widening in shock. This definitely was different…

"All of you," Quillish growled, letting go of Jane's wrist and glaring at the other people in the room, "You come to my home, insult me and my son, break my things, and then expect me to just take it? There is a reason why I avoided talking to you as long as I have! You _all_ disgust me!"

The room was quiet as everyone in the room stared at Quillish, "Do you mean that?" a woman asked, tentatively breaking the silence.

"Of course. Who wouldn't be disgusted?" Quillish snapped, "Just look at yourselves!"

A man in the back scoffed, "If that's really how you feel, we'll get out," he said indignantly.

"Please," was Quillish's response.

"I told you that this was a bad idea…" someone hissed.

"Yes, it was a very bad idea," Quillish agreed, "Now; I would appreciate it if you would all just go…please." It seemed as though he was trying very hard to be calm and polite once more.

The people looked at each other for a few seconds, then back to Quillish. It was obvious he wasn't playing. Slowly, slowly they began to file out of the room, glancing nervously at the man, who watched them go with a hard expression. After a few moments, the only people that remained were Laurent and Quillish. As soon as he could no longer hear their footsteps, Quillish gave a deep sigh and collapsed on one of the chairs.

He looked to the far end of the room, where, until just recently, his whole immediate family had stood. It was then that he noticed the small figurine shattered on the hardwood floor. _So that was the thing she broke… too bad… I liked that one..._ Quillish thought tiredly.

"Who were those people?" Laurent asked quietly.

"Those people were my family…" Quillish sighed, "My brothers, sisters, in-laws, nieces, nephews…" he covered his face with his hands. The two were silent, and the room was filled with the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the far corner of the room.

"Why did they act like that?" Laurent asked.

Quillish took his hands from his face and straightened up in his seat, gazing into the curious eyes of his adoptive son, "I honestly don't know why they act like that…" he said softly, "They've just always been that way… petty, self-centered…" he gave a deep sigh and hung his head.

Laurent looked down, "They're those sorts of people, aren't they? The sort of people that want things just to want things…"

"That's right. They all just want my money… that's all I'm good for in their eyes…" Quillish shook his head, "You should have seen them before I had anything… they didn't want anything to do with me. It was only when I had wealth that they even noticed I existed at all."

Laurent looked up and put a hand on Quillish's knee, "Make sure I don't grow up to be like that," he said seriously.

Quillish looked up in surprise, "Laurent…"

"I mean it," Laurent said, "I don't want to be seen as one of them."

Quillish's face broke into a smile as he reached out and ruffled Laurent's messy black hair, "I know you won't be seen as one of them. You're cut from a different cloth, that's why I picked you to be my heir in the first place. You don't care about physical things like most people do… I'm sure you won't grow up to be anything at all like them."

Laurent smiled, "Thank you."

"However, you have to promise me something," Quillish said, "Since I'm from their family, I have a higher chance of ending up like them. If you see it happening, tell me. Tell me as soon as possible."

Laurent then laughed, "I promise."

Quillish smiled in response, but it was a tired smile, "This must be a horrible first day for you," Quillish said with a shake of his head, "We've hardly touched down in the UK and already my family was here to insult you. I feel horrible about this…"

Laurent shook his head, "Don't worry," he said, "I don't care about what they say. They're just a bunch of idiots."

Quillish gave a loud laugh, "Now, that's not very nice at all!" he said, grinning, "You shouldn't call them idiots… even though they are," he put his hand on Laurent's shoulder, "Now, what say we forget about all of this? How would you like a tour of the place?"

"Sure," Laurent smiled.


	9. Institute

**A/N: Sorry about the delay. I happened to get pretty busy lately, so I doubt I'll be able to upload as often as I had the first few chapters. I hope you continue to read and enjoy this story, regardless of how long it takes for me to put up the next installment...**

Chapter 9: Institute

"Stand up a little straighter, you're rounding your shoulders," Quillish whispered to Laurent as they approached the enormous and rather old boarding school known as Wammy Institute. Quillish was never quite sure he liked the title, but others had agreed that it suited the old building. Quillish wasn't one to disagree with them, for he didn't really have a better name for it, anyway.

Laurent made a half-effort to straighten himself up, "You started up this school?" he asked, his eyes trailing up the enormous structure that was somewhat covered with vines, "It looks a lot like the Clark sisters' house…"

Quillish cocked his head and looked at the building, "I suppose it does," he said with a smile, "How very peculiar."

They made their way up the drive, and after a few moments of walking, sounds of children laughing and shouting could be heard.

"It must be recess," Quillish observed casually. Laurent gave a nod. Quillish looked at his adoptive son, "Are you alright?"

Laurent gave another nod.

"You seem very uncomfortable," Qullish said, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder.

Laurent's gaze drifted down to the pebbles below his feet and rested there, "We're here to meet a friend of yours, right?"

"That's right," Quillish responded.

"…he's not going to be another one of those…?"

Quillish laughed, "Not everyone I know is like my family, Laurent!" he said, "That's the beauty of friendship! You can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends."

"You chose me. I'm your family, aren't I?" Laurent responded.

"That was a very rare instance," Quillish said with a smile, "…but look at you. You're nothing like my brothers and sisters. If I could have chosen my family, they would all be like you."

Laurent shook his head, but he couldn't help but smile, "You don't mean that."

"Well, they might not all be like you, you're a rather rare sort of person, you know," Quillish laughed, "Now, come. We're keeping Roger waiting."

* * *

><p>"Quillish!" Roger cried, dropping the papers he was holding as the two entered his office, "It's been far too long!"<p>

"It really has, Roger," Quillish said, with a warm smile. Laurent simply watched the strange new man with mild curiosity.

Roger got up from his seat and rushed around his desk, a wide smile filling his face, "Years and years!" he laughed, his right hand taking Quillish's for a handshake, his left was placed on Quillish's shoulder, "You've missed a lot."

"I can tell," Quillish said with a smile.

Roger let go of his friend and turned to look at Laurent, who didn't move at all after he had entered the room, "You're Quillish's adoptive son, right?"

"That's right," Laurent responded, his dark eyes immediately locking onto Roger's, "My name is Laurent."

"Pleased meet you, I'm Roger Ruvie," the man said, taking Laurent's small hand for a brief handshake. Laurent gave him an awkward smile and shook the man's hand dutifully. He really didn't like being touched by strangers, no matter what form the touching took. He supposed this was better than a hug, though.

Roger turned to look at Quillish, "I couldn't really tell over the telephone, but you've certainly gotten old," he said with a smirk.

"You have as well," Quillish responded, grinning back at him.

"Well, who wouldn't with all of those brats running around? They've made me go gray before I was ready!" Roger said, his hand running over his hair, "It's you who doesn't have an excuse. You only have one child to look after, unless he's a real handful…" he looked closely at the little boy, who stared right back at him. Quillish laughed.

"I've missed you, Roger," he said.

Roger grinned, "Likewise," he responded, "Now," he continued, clapping his hands once and then making his way over to his desk, "Would you like to see some of the developments I've made in my research…?"

"That's right, you got another grant…" Quillish said with a nod, "Congratulations."

Roger smiled, "Thank you. Now… look at this. We've managed to find a pattern in the mating habits of the common housefly. Look! Look!" he picked up a rather hefty pile of papers from his desk, his eyes glittering with excitement. It was obvious that he had been in possession of this information for a long while and he was dying to tell someone about it. This was one of the reasons why Roger had missed his friend so greatly. Without Quillish, he hardly had anyone who would listen to him about anything entomology-related. The teachers in the school were apathetic to whatever information Roger ever uncovered, and the students couldn't be relied upon for any sort of deep thought. As for his friends in the field, they were working on the research with him, so whatever information he would give would be old news to them.

Quillish accepted the papers with a smile, "You and your flies…" he said, flipping through the pages with interest, "There certainly are a lot of things in here…"

"Please, read it at your leisure!" Roger beamed, "I'd like to hear your thoughts on it later!"

"Mm…" Quillish said with a nod, he scanned the papers for a few more seconds.

"So… I've been meaning to ask, is there any other reason why you have decided to make an appointment with me, besides just saying hello?" Roger asked.

"As a matter of fact, there is…" Quillish said, looking up, "I haven't been here in a long while, is there any chance you could take us around the building? I hear that there were many different renovations since I last saw it."

Roger smirked, "Of course, follow me."

"Do you mind if I leave the papers back here…?" Quillish asked, holding up the many papers in his hands.

"Not at all. Just put them back on the desk," Roger responded. He paused, "No, wait. Give them to me, I'll do it for you."

"It's really no trouble…" Quillish began.

"I insist," Roger said, taking the papers from his friend, straightening them up and placing them neatly on his desk. He clapped his hands again, "Alright, let's go."

* * *

><p>"…and down this way, we have where we hold the science classes…" Roger continued, leading Quillish and Laurent deeper into the labyrinth of hallways, "We got a rather generous donation recently, so we used it to update all of the equipment."<p>

"Very nice…" Quillish commented. His eyes trailed on the walls that seemed just recently painted, "I see you also got rid of that wallpaper that used to be hanging on the walls…"

"Ghastly stuff," Roger said with a shake of his head, "I like the look of paint more than paper myself… and many people agreed. They actually made a petition to rip it out!"

"Really, now?"

"Yes, really! It was actually rather funny…"

Laurent silently followed the two men, but his eyes wouldn't stop moving. At every single turn there was something new to marvel at. There were beautiful photographs and paintings that decorated the walls, large, open windows that light cascaded through so stunningly, delicate vases and crystalline decorations on pedestals… it looked like something out of a movie or book. _This is a school…?_ Laurent thought in wonder.

* * *

><p>"…and here we are, back at my office. What do you think?" Roger asked, turning back to the two and grinning proudly. He may not have especially liked the school when it came to the people, but the building itself was something that Roger loved almost as much as his insects.<p>

Quillish smiled, "You've been doing a good job looking after it."

"Well, it's mostly the housekeeping and staff that keep it looking the way it does…" Roger said modestly, "But thank you."

"Laurent, what do you think of it?" Quillish asked, looking down at his adoptive son.

"It's beautiful…" Laurent responded, "I can't even believe that it's a school."

"In that case… how would you like to attend here next year?" Quillish asked.

Laurent's eyes lit up, "Really? I can go here?"

"Certainly, you're old enough," Quillish said with a smile.

"I would love to," Laurent said, eyes shining.

Roger's happy expression seemed to melt right off his face. "Wait… just like that?" he asked disbelievingly.

"I think that you'll find Laurent to be quite the capable student," Quillish said with a smile, "All of his old teachers agreed in that respect."

Roger began to look rather flustered; "It's not that I don't question your judgment…" he began.

"Good, I don't either," Quillish said with a smile.

"But… I… you… just like that?" Roger stuttered, stumbling over his words.

"Money is no issue, you know," said Quillish happily.

"Money was never an issue…!"

"Then what's the problem?"

"You're just… going to place this child in? I mean, he may certainly be smart, but I…" Roger spluttered, "He needs letters of recommendation! Transcripts! How do we know how smart he is…? All we have is your word! We can't just let him in on that… we can't just let him in just because you want it to be so! We may be a little corrupt, but we still have rules!"

"All you really have are the parents' word for a lot of the students here," Quillish responded, "Trust me, Roger. He'll do fine. Just because he's getting in using the same techniques as many of the children here… that is, with a parent with money and power… he certainly deserves a spot here more than anyone else."

"That's what all parents say…!" Roger said, sounding frustrated.

"Oh, I doubt that. Most people don't like to bring up their money and power when it comes to their children getting into such a fine establishment. They like to pretend that they got there from merit… as every parent would like it to be," Quillish said with a smile.

Roger frowned deeper, "I suppose you're right… but I… the paperwork…!"

"I'll handle it. We have all summer," Quillish responded, "Besides, you let in countless new students every year anyway. What's another?"

Roger's frown remained, but his face also took on a look of embarrassment, "I… well… I guess you're right…"

Quillish then frowned, looking down at his feet in thought, "You know… I was really hoping that all of that corruption would have lessened in the past three years. I even replaced the staff…" he sighed, "I guess people will be people…" He was silent for a few more seconds, and then he looked up again with a smile. "Now, then..." Quillish continued, "Let's go back into your office. I'm still rather curious about your housefly research."

Roger smiled in spite of himself, "Oh, alright," he said, opening the door and letting them back inside. As Laurent stepped into the room, he heard the faint sound of an unseen clock chime the hour.

_It's three already…?_ He thought.


	10. Beginnings

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, everyone. **

**This chapter is another transition chapter, and a little bit longer than most of the other ones I have written thus far. I can't help but think this story might be going a little too fast...**

**If you happen to spot any grammatical or spelling errors in my work that I have missed, feel free to PM me so that I can fix them. Yes, I know that's what Beta readers are for...**

**I want to thank all of you for your continuing support and interest in the story. I hope you keep reading and enjoying it.**

Chapter 10: Beginnings

"We should probably find you a sport before sending you off to school," Quillish said conversationally to Laurent one afternoon. They were sitting in the living room, each with their own form of literature in their hands to keep them occupied. It was their usual way of passing time.

Laurent looked up from his novel, an unamused expression on his face, "I don't like sports that much," he said flatly.

Quillish laughed, "I know that, but we'll need you to do something other than study or read," he said, turning a page in his newspaper and glancing up at his adoptive son.

"I like reading," responded Laurent.

Quillish smiled, "Yes, but…" he rubbed the back of his neck and looked up in thought, "You see, most people find reading all the time to be odd, especially when you do little else."

"It's what you do," Laurent responded.

"I do, which is why people perceive me as odd." Quillish explained.

Laurent simply shrugged, "I don't mind being called odd," he said, his eyes returning to his book, "I really don't care what other people think of me." He turned a page in his novel and mumbled something else.

Quillish cocked his head slightly, "What was that?"

"I said 'I'm odd anyway,'" Laurent said a little louder. He looked up at his adoptive father, "Even you call me odd sometimes."

Quillish laughed, "I know, but it's a compliment," he said. Laurent looked back down at his book as Quillish continued, "At least try something new, Laurent. You don't have to do it if you don't want to; I just thought you might like to know a sport to play with the other students."

Laurent stopped reading, but continued to stare at the book, "What sort of sport?"

"What sort of sport would you like to learn?"

Laurent thought a little bit about it. "I don't really like team sports that much," he said.

_That's understandable… _Quillish thought, "Well, that takes out quite a lot of them," he responded, looking back at his newspaper, "I suppose if you did find a sport, you'd rather have a team of one, right?"

"That's right."

"Hm…" Quillish said, looking up in thought. After a couple seconds, his face lit up with a smile, "I think I've just thought of the perfect one."

* * *

><p>Laurent held his racquet loosely in his hand as he looked across the court at his adoptive father. Quillish smiled at him, his own racquet in his right hand. His left was busy bouncing a small yellow ball. "Are you ready, Laurent?" Quillish called out.<p>

"I guess so," Laurent responded.

"Hold the racquet like I told you," Quillish called out, "Keep your eye on the ball, and just focus on hitting it back, okay?"

Laurent did as he was told, training his eyes on the little yellow ball in his adoptive father's hand.

"Alright, here it comes!"

Thwack! The little yellow ball was suddenly sailing through the air. Laurent swung at it with all his might… and missed. The ball sailed right over his racquet, bounced on the hard surface of the court and rolled until it hit the fence behind him. Laurent looked over his shoulder and frowned.

"No worries, no one can get it the first time around," Quillish said, taking another tennis ball from the bag he had brought outside, "Try hitting this next one."

It took a little convincing, but Quillish had managed to get Laurent outside and onto the tennis courts. Laurent was feeling a little strange about the whole thing, for he was never one for sports and he doubted any of them could convert him. He did, however, agree to try it out.

Of course, Quillish didn't have a racquet for someone Laurent's size, so they had to go out and buy one for him. After the racquet was found, they ended up buying some appropriate tennis attire for the boy. After such excursions, Laurent was already starting to rethink his decision; he really hated clothes shopping.

However, though he groaned and complained, he stuck it out. It was more for Quillish than for himself.

However, the longer they practiced that afternoon, the more Laurent came to enjoy it. Tennis wasn't that bad of a game, really… and the fact that he could play singles matches made him feel all the better about the sport. He had to admit that point system didn't make much sense, though. Why not just use three points? Why did it have to go from fifteen to thirty to forty? There wasn't even a discernible pattern!

The practice went on until it began to grow dark, and by that time, Laurent was getting fairly decent at hitting the ball back. He still had a long way to go when it came to control and the strength of his swing, but for a beginner, he was coming along well.

As they packed up and made their way inside, Laurent looked up at his adoptive father and asked, "Why did you decide to learn how to play tennis?"

"I was bored one summer and decided to give it a go," Quillish said cheerfully, "That's the reason why a lot of people do things. They just want to."

Laurent fiddled with his racquet and frowned. It was true that he did do things because he wanted to, but there was always a reason as to _why_ he wanted to do things. He read books because he wanted to, but he wanted to read because he wanted to learn. Or, he wanted to get lost in another world. He observed things because he wanted to, but he wanted to do so because of what sorts of things he could find out. He wondered if others ever actually had a reason to want, as he did, and the reason "to cure my boredom" was never a complete answer to him.

Learning to play tennis was partially to please his adoptive father, and partially to see if learning a new sport would actually attract more people to him. If he could do that, he could possibly figure out why other people acted so strangely.

The more Laurent thought, the less he was able to see if he ever did anything just for the sake of doing it. There was always a reason… no matter how trivial or silly that reason happened to be.

Perhaps other people really did have their reasons for wanting to do things, they just never bothered to look? Could that be the case? Was he really that different after all?

_Perhaps I'm thinking too far into this…_ Laurent decided as he put away his racquet.

* * *

><p>The summer flew by, as summers often do, and soon it was time to send Laurent off to school. He would have lied if he said he wasn't a little anxious to be going off and living there, but in the end, he decided he could handle it. Laurent was already versed in the way a boarding school operated; it wasn't so terribly different to the way the Clark Sisters had run things. He had lived like that once; he could live like that again. Besides, this time around, he had Quillish. Certainly, the man wouldn't be around as often, but Laurent could always call or write if he felt lonely, and Quillish had already promised that he would visit.<p>

"This is everything, right?" Quillish asked, placing the boy's luggage in the middle of the room. Laurent nodded as he glanced around. There were two beds pushed up against opposing walls, two desks, two shelves, two sets of drawers… it was a standard set-up of a dormitory room.

"The room seems awfully plain," Quillish remarked.

Laurent nodded with a quiet, "Yeah," and began unpacking, an effort that Quillish joined in.

"You're not too nervous about this, are you?" Quillish asked, taking out the small collection of books Laurent brought from home and placing them on one of the shelves.

"No," Laurent responded quietly, but he fidgeted slightly with the shirt he was placing in one of his drawers.

Quillish caught this and smiled, "I'm certain you'll do fine," he said.

Laurent nodded.

After a while, everything was put in place. The two looked around, surveying their handiwork with satisfied smiles. "Now, I suppose we have to wait for your roommate to arrive," Quillish said, "I'd like to meet him… I wonder what he's like."

"I wonder what his name is…" Laurent mumbled.

"It is odd that they wouldn't even give is that much," agreed Quillish with a frown, "Perhaps I should bring that up to Roger the next time I see him. I wonder if it would make any difference, though…"

After only a half an hour of the two's shared ponderings, a young boy walked into the room with his mother and father following behind. He began surveying the place as Laurent had done previously, his bright green eyes sparkling with excitement. As gaze fell upon the other boy in the room, his smile grew wider. Laurent silently prayed that this mysterious new boy wasn't another Charlie.

The boy approached him and stuck his hand out for a handshake, and Laurent dutifully obliged him, "Hello, my name is Matthew. Matthew Johnson." The boy beamed.

"I'm Laurent. Laurent Wammy," Laurent said.

Matthew's eyes widened in suprise, "Wammy? Really? Just like this school?"

"That's right," Laurent responded.

The boy's parents blinked at this news and began studying the third adult in the room carefully. "You're Quillish Wammy?" the boy's father asked tentatively.

"That's me," Quillish smiled.

The two adults' eyes widened. "This is amazing!" the boy's mother cried out.

"It certainly is!" responded the boy's father, "I never would have guessed we'd meet a celebrity here!"

"I'm not really that much of a celebrity…" Quillish said.

"In my line of work you are," said the boy's father, putting down a suitcase and sticking out his hand for a handshake, which Quillish accepted, "My name is Henry Johnson. I design and sell all sorts of batteries. Your work influenced me greatly."

Quillish's expression shifted quickly between confusion and elatedness, but finally settled on contentment, "Why, thank you…" he said.

"I had no idea you had a son…" Henry continued, looking closely at Laurent.

"Well, now you do," responded Quillish with a smile.

The room was silent for a few moments, and then Henry looked back at his wife and noticed that the suitcases still needed to be unpacked. As he rushed over to fix the situation, he called out, "Come on, Matthew, you can't make us do it all by ourselves."

Matthew immediately complied with his father's suggestion and began helping. After a few moments, which was expected on account of having three sets of hands to do the unpacking, the room looked a little more livable.

It was then that Matthew's mother walked up to Quillish and took his hand in hers, "I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself," she said, shaking his hand, "I'm Amelia Johnson." She was beaming almost as much as her husband had been.

"Pleasure to meet you," Quillish responded.

The woman nodded, still smiling. She then turned to her son, "Well, we ought to be going. Give me a hug, Matthew!" The boy happily obliged. "Be good!" She said.

"I will!" responded Matthew. He then went over to his father who said his goodbyes in a very similar way.

Laurent watched this event unfold, feeling more and more awkward as it went on. After a little while, He looked up at Quillish and asked, "Would you like a hug goodbye, too?"

He turned and saw Matthew with his upper body out of the doorway, waving to his parents as they disappeared down the hall.

Quillish laughed, "Do you want one?"

Laurent paused and looked down. "Well…" _Not really…_

He felt Quillish ruffle his hair affectionately, "Stay out of trouble, I'll see you soon."

As Quillish began making his way out the door, Laurent began feeling a little empty inside. This goodbye just didn't seem complete. _Perhaps…_ he thought, noticing he was beginning to walk after his adoptive father, _Perhaps just this once… _Before Laurent had realized it, he had thrown his arms around Quillish in an unexpected hug, causing the man to stop in surprise. He looked down to see the dark eyes of his adoptive son staring into his own, "See you soon," was all Laurent said.

Quillish smiled.


	11. Peace

**A/N: I apologize in advance for this chapter. I am not pleased with it, it just seems to do nothing to further the story. However, I didn't want to simply jump into the next plot line without some sort of waiting chapter. I might end up editing or removing this...**

**I am also very sorry I kept you all waiting. A lot of things came up, and this chapter... I didn't know what to do with it. I hope you will continue to read and enjoy this story, even if this chapter is utterly pointless.**

Chapter 11: Peace

Laurent spent his free time at school the same way he would spend it at home, by reading. The impressive library that the school boasted aided him in his pursuit nicely. It was enormous, well-kept and it smelled pleasantly of old books. Laurent couldn't keep himself away from such a room for too long, considering how much there was to see and how little time he had to see it. Not to mention, the library contained a huge collection of books that appealed to younger audiences, something that the library back at his home lacked.

During the free time when he wasn't exploring the library, he could usually be found sitting in his room, much to the exasperation of his roommate. Matthew just couldn't grasp the concept that sitting alone in a quiet setting could be something enjoyable. So, whenever he caught Laurent doing nothing in particular in their room, he would proceed to try to convince Laurent to come outside with him and "have fun."

However, the "fun" that Laurent tended to have was very different than the "fun" Matthew wanted him to have, even if he did succeed in leaving the building.

Sometimes, just to be smart, Laurent would bring the book he was currently reading outside with him and would proceeded to read after he was in the open air.

Other times, he'd wander aimlessly about the playground, watching as other children had their own fun.

Still other times, he'd try to strike up a conversation with Matthew about whatever thought happened to be on his mind.

As one could be well aware, this did not bode with Matthew very well.

"Come on, Laurent!" Matthew whined one afternoon, ignoring Laurent's question about a particular habit he had noticed in pigeons, "I try to make you have fun, but you won't do it! What sort of person hates fun? Why are you so odd?"

Laurent blinked, "If I hate fun, why do you follow me around like you do?" he asked, "There's a lot of other people to play with, you don't have to be around me."

It was Matthew's turn to blink, "Well… you're my roommate, so I want to be your friend," he said.

"I see," Laurent responded. They were silent for a few moments.

Matthew looked away, "Do you know any sports? Like football?"

"I don't really like football," Laurent responded. Then, before Matthew could say anything, Laurent continued, "Either kind."

Matthew frowned, "How about baseball? You're an American, right? You probably like baseball…"

"Not really, no."

"Cricket? I know it's a little like baseball, but perhaps…"

"No, I don't much like that, either."

"Well, there has to be something that you like!"

Laurent paused in thought, "Well… I do like tennis… I learned a bit over the summer. Do you play tennis?"

"No," Matthew replied.

Laurent frowned, "I thought so…"

"Perhaps you could teach me?"

"You want to learn?"

"If it will make you have fun!"

"I'm already having fun," Laurent said calmly.

"I mean _real_ fun," Matthew whined.

Laurent sighed, "Okay, okay. Let's play… does this place have a tennis court?"

"I don't know…"

"Since you don't play, we'll need to find you need a racquet, too…" Laurent continued, turning around and walking back into the building without much warning.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Matthew called, chasing after him.

"Well, if I'm going to teach you tennis, I'm going to at least need my racquet, won't I?" he responded. He then paused, "…and my tennis balls…" he mumbled to himself, suddenly picking up the pace back to their room.

After a little while, they had managed to locate both the tennis courts and the sports equipment, and for many days, Laurent tried to teach Matthew how to play tennis. Matthew, however, happened to have pretty poor depth perception, so it took a long time before he even managed to hit the ball back. Laurent didn't mind it, though. It had been a little while since he had last taken up his racquet, and as long as Matthew wasn't whining at him, it seemed like a good way to spend his time.

* * *

><p>After so many years of having Laurent around, Quillish had forgotten just how empty a house could feel. It was strange walking into the library and not seeing the little boy curled up in one of the chairs. It was odd seeing that his tennis racquet was missing from its usual place. However, the thing Quillish missed most was Laurent's constant questions. He liked answering them, but what was more fun was noticing what sorts of things were on the boy's mind. He thought a lot for a child his age. Now, he was lucky to have one of the housekeepers ask him the location of some cleaning supplies.<p>

One afternoon, Quillish was busying himself doing nothing in particular. He had figured he might as well work on some new invention… he had a lot of time on his hands and no manner in which to spend it, so it would be a perfect opportunity to do so. However, as much as he wanted it to happen, no real ideas for inventions came to his head. He tried going for a walk or leafing through his old books, but no ideas surfaced. _Well, I suppose that's how it works. You can't will ideas into being… they come to you._ Quillish thought.

After a while, he had found himself in the living room with a newspaper in his hand. He flipped through it uninterestedly, looking up and seeing the empty chair across from him. _I wonder how he's doing… _Quillish thought idly.

* * *

><p>Weeks passed and nothing of note really happened. Classes went well, the weather grew colder, the leaves changed color and soon it was late October.<p>

Matthew had begun thinking of Laurent as a bit of a friend at that point, so he began spending even more time around him than usual. As for Laurent, he really didn't have an opinion one way or another about his roommate. As far as he was concerned, Matthew was just another peer. Of course, he never quite told Matthew that, so Matthew began assuming his feelings of friendship were mutual.

On that particular day, Laurent had been called down to the mail room, so Matthew waited paitently in their dorm to find out what exactly his roommate would be bringing back.

"What's that?" Matthew asked, looking in awe at the package Laurent was carrying into the room. It was plain and brown, but it was still a package, and that in itself was good enough to spark curiosity.

"Something from my dad," Laurent responded, setting it on his bed.

"From Mr. Wammy?"

"That's right."

"That's nice of him," Matthew said, his eyes trailing over the box curiously, "Do you think there was any reason for it?"

"Hm…" Laurent thought, his fingers tapping his chin as he did so. Suddenly, his face lit up, "Wait! It's October, isn't it?"

"…yes…?"

"This probably has something to do with my birthday!"

"Wait… your birthday is coming up?"

"I didn't tell you?"

"No…" Matthew said, "You hardly ever… wait! If this is a birthday present, what are you doing just talking about it?"

"I don't know," Laurent said truthfully, already beginning to play with the brown paper that covered the package.

"Well, go on, then! Open it!" Matthew said excitedly.

"Alright," Laurent said, starting to feel slightly awkward as Matthew began eagerly eyeing the box.

The package was quickly opened and Matthew quickly ran up behind Laurent to look at what he had received. On the very top was a small white envelope. Laurent quickly opened it to read what was inside.

_Dear Laurent,_

_Happy birthday! I know this might come a little early, but I figured, why not? Promise not to eat all of this at once, alright?_

_Love,_

_Dad_

"Look at all of this!" Matthew shouted happily.

Laurent looked up from the little note and peeked into the package.

"Wow," was all Laurent said.

"Of course 'wow!'" Matthew grinned.

The package was filled with sweets. Laurent was in shock. He, like most children, had a rather crippling sweet tooth, but he never had much of an opportunity to indulge in it. Most of the candy he received had come from Easter, Halloween and Christmas, and he would try to keep that candy around as long as possible.

However, the amount of it sitting on his bed was much more than he got on those holidays, possibly combined. Coming to that revelation caused him to say, "Wow," once more.

"He must really miss you! Or… maybe this is for Halloween, too?" Matthew said, picking up a piece of candy, "Even then, this is a lot!"

"Yes…"

"Do you mind if I take a piece?"

"Go…go ahead…"

Matthew happily opened the sweet and put it into his mouth, but Laurent was still staring stock still at the sheer amount of sugar in the package. He wondered briefly if his adoptive father knew what he was thinking…_just look at it all…_

Laurent's face broke into a smile. This was going to be fun.


	12. Motion

**A/N: I'm so sorry for making any of you wait, this is way, WAY past my set deadline. I just have gotten pretty busy, and I also had a rather annoying bout of writer's block. Thankfully, it's gone now. You can expect things to start happening very soon!**

**As always, I want to thank all of you for continuing to read and I hope I can continue to entertain you. Thanks for all of your support! I really appreciate it!**

Chapter 12: Motion

"Just look at this thing!"

"It's simply amazing."

"I like the way it looks!"

"It's pretty big, isn't it?"

A swarm of young boys were clogging up the hallway one afternoon staring at a marvelous new toy an upperclassman had brought to show them. They all chittered excitedly, each taking the item in their hands to gawk at it a little bit.

It was then that Laurent walked up to the group, intent on getting around them and back to his room. However, as he began listening to their excited babbling, he became curious as to what they were looking at. He peeked over one of their shoulders in an attempt to see what was so interesting, but he couldn't see anything at all.

"What do you have there?" Laurent asked as he struggled to see what everyone was so excited about.

One of the boys turned and smiled at him, "Oh, hello, Laurent," he said, nodding at the new arrival, "Have you seen this thing yet? It's one of those cellular telephones."

"One of those what?"

"You know, a portable telephone… they're really new," the boy said, "They're expensive, too…"

One of the boys passed Laurent the item in question. It was a big, blocky plastic contraption that seemed to have a likeness to a telephone… somewhat. Laurent was immediately intrigued. He began looking it over with the same sort of curiosity the other boys had.

"It's not as good as a normal telephone," the upperclassman said with a sigh.

"They're downright impossible to get, though!" one boy exclaimed, "How did you get your hands on one?"

"He attends this school, idiot," another boy remarked snidely, "His parents have a lot of money to spend."

"…but for one of those things…!"

"…Yes, spending money on school is one thing, but spending so much on one of these things…"

"I'd have to admit, the price seems rather high for an ugly plastic thing like that."

"You all just don't understand! This is the future!" one boy piped up, "I'd like to work on something like this when I get older."

"I hope it improves, it certainly isn't that spectacular to me right now," one boy said boredly.

"Why are even here if you don't want to be, Simon?" another cried out angrily.

Laurent continued to turn the telephone in his hands until another boy snatched it away to get another look.

"Be careful with it!" the upperclassman snapped, "You all know how expensive it is!"

As the others continued their babbling about the new piece of technology, Laurent slipped through the crowd and to the other side. He looked back at them for a few seconds before moving on.

* * *

><p>"Did you see that cellular telephone?" Matthew asked, spinning around in his chair to face Laurent as he entered the room. Laurent gave a nod.<p>

"Yeah, they're all saying that it'll spark the future, or something like that," Laurent said, settling down in front of his desk and picking up a piece of candy, "It's not as interesting as a computer, though."

"Yeah..." Matthew said, "Just think about it, though… people would be able to make phone calls whenever they wanted. That sounds nice, doesn't it? We won't even need phone booths anymore; people will just carry their own telephones wherever they go."

"That could be a problem," Laurent said thoughtfully, already finished with his first piece of candy and moving on to a second.

"Why is that?" Matthew asked, cocking his head.

"Well… with all the phone booths gone…" Laurent said in the same thoughtful tone, fiddling with the cellophane wrapper, "…where will Clark Kent change when the time comes?"

Matthew blinked. Then, he laughed, "You had me going for a second," Matthew said with a smirk, "That was a terrible joke."

"I'm being completely serious," Laurent said, though the effect was ruined because he couldn't help but smile. "Though…" he continued, "I can't see everyone carrying around those things. They're huge."

"Maybe people could carry them around to also use as weapons… you know, if someone tried to rob them," Matthew said with a grin.

"I don't think it's heavy enough for that," Laurent said.

"Probably would scare them away, though… if it was dark, someone might mistake it for a brick or something," Matthew said.

"Maybe…"

The room was silent for a few seconds, save for the crinkling of cellophane as Laurent took yet another candy from the box. He really couldn't stop eating sugar once he had started… at least until he got a stomachache. Even when that happened, though, he'd start eating it again once the sick feeling went away.

…perhaps this was what it was like to be addicted to something.

"Hmm…" Matthew hummed, breaking the silence. His countenance suddenly looked thoughtful, "speaking of robbers, did you hear about all of the attacks in town?" he asked.

"Attacks?" Laurent asked, turning around to face Matthew, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yeah, I heard it from Tom. He said that there have been at least five people who got robbed in the streets just last week."

"Wow… just in town?" Laurent asked, blinking, "Have they caught him yet?"

"No, that's the strange thing. They're not even sure where to begin looking, because no one has seen his face. You would think that they would have by now, considering that there have been so many people…" Matthew said, "It's a little scary, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Laurent agreed. His eyes gained a far-off look and he cupped his face in his hand, "Did Tom say anything about there being any suspects at all?"

Matthew shook his head.

"Hmm…"

"Tom didn't say anything more than what I already told you," Matthew said with a shrug, "I hope that they find him soon, though."

"So do I," Laurent said.

They were silent for a few seconds.

"I bet those people would have liked one of those big cellular telephones to swing around, wouldn't they?" Matthew asked with a grin.

"They're still too light," reminded Laurent.

* * *

><p>"Hmm? The attacks?" Tom asked.<p>

Laurent nodded.

The two of them were sitting next to each other at lunch. Since they had a common acquaintance in Matthew, they both ended up at the same table. That day, Matthew had finished his lunch early and had left the two of them to talk.

Laurent didn't know Thomas Harrington very well; what he did know was mostly just what Matthew had told him. All he really knew was that Tom was known most for his proficiency in math, but he didn't much care for the subject. Above all else, he preferred English. What he was doing in that particular school was something of a mystery. Perhaps it had something to do with the prestige that Wammy Institute carried.

"Well, I don't know much about them, really… it's just been on the news," Tom replied, picking up his sandwich.

"I see…" Laurent said a little disappointedly.

"Why do you want to know about them, anyway?" Tom asked.

"Well," Laurent said, "Don't you think it's interesting? Five attacks in one week and no one has seen his face? Isn't that a little weird?"

"The man always attacked at night, it was just probably too dark to see him," Tom said with a shrug.

"That's all?"

"Well, I already said I don't know very much about what's happened…" Tom said with a shrug, biting into his sandwich.

"Hmm…" Laurent hummed thoughtfully, "Do you know anyone who would?"

Tom shrugged and swallowed, "I don't think anyone really cares as long as they're not the ones getting robbed," he said.

Laurent sat back in his seat in thought, poking absently at the food on his tray with his fork, "The town's not very big, though… is it?" he asked.

"Not really," Tom replied, "I've been there a couple of times… there's really not much to it."

"Well, then… do you think the robber could be someone everyone knows?" Laurent asked, continuing to play with his food.

"What do you mean?"

"Well… it's a small town; everyone probably knows one another, right?"

"Hmm… they might…" Tom said with a shrug, "I don't know very much about towns, I live in a city."

Laurent nodded absently, then continued to think, "Don't you think you would be able to recognize a person you know in the dark?"

"If they talked to me, I guess…" Tom took another bite of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. He then swallowed and said, "I guess I could probably tell who they are from their outline, too… and how they walk…"

"Since no one recognized him, then no one probably knew the robber, right?" Laurent asked.

"I don't know… maybe. They might not all know each other, though," Tom said.

"That's true…"

"Even if they did, if he was a new person, they'd probably know who he was, too…" Tom continued, "If they all knew each other, they would probably know when someone new came around, and they would recognize him because of that, wouldn't you think?"

"I was thinking about that," Laurent mumbled, his fork tracing nonsense shapes in the food on his tray.

Tom shrugged again, "Well, whatever happens, I don't really think any of this really matters…" he said, finishing up his sandwich and picking up his tray, "They'll eventually catch the robber. These sorts of things don't ever take too long." He then walked away, leaving Laurent alone at the table with his thoughts.

He didn't want to just leave it at that, though. This, for some odd reason, was very interesting to him. Who was this man? Was he someone the townspeople knew? Was he someone that just moved in? Was he someone with no connection at all to the town?

Laurent wanted to find out for himself.


	13. Start

**A/N: Sorry for the obscenely long wait, everyone. I got distracted, and then I got busy... but I finally have this one up. It's a little longer than my other chapters, but I suppose that makes up for me not updating for a while. This part was a real pain to write...**

**As always, I want to thank all of you for your patience and for your continuing interest in this story. Now, on with the chapter.**

Chapter 13: Start

"Hm? Yeah, everyone down there knows everyone…why do you ask?"

Laurent shrugged, "I was just curious."

It had been a couple days and Laurent couldn't let go of his thoughts about the robber, not that he really tried. It was interesting to him, and therefore it was something to look into. However, it was becoming apparent that no one else was very interested. They figured it really wasn't their job to go looking around in such areas, that the professionals would end up sorting it out. After all, they weren't the ones who were getting attacked. It was best just to let it blow over… do what any normal person would.

It was starting to become glaringly obvious to Laurent that he wasn't exactly a normal person.

…which is why he was in one of the common rooms then, talking to an upperclassman named Timothy Jameson. Timothy was one of those rare people whose parents actually lived in town. If anyone would know anything about the little village, it would be him. Unfortunately, he really wasn't that interested in talking about it.

Timothy sat in one of the room's old armchairs, holding in his hands a book on botany. He had just settled in to read when Laurent had abruptly approached him. Understandably, he felt a little irked that some lowerclassman had decided to talk to him at that precisely that moment.

Timothy's eyes drifted back to the book and he muttered, "There isn't much to be curious about. I've lived there my whole life. It's a very nice place, but it isn't very exciting."

That was enough to get Laurent talking again, "Did you hear about the robber, though?" Laurent asked, "That's pretty exciting, right?"

Timothy shrugged, grudgingly looking back up from his book, "Crime happens everywhere. It's not exciting, it's just sad."

…so he was another one of those people.

Before Timothy's eyes could drift back down, Laurent continued, "…but aren't you a little curious as to who it might be? I mean… if everyone knows each other, then obviously the robber is someone new. If it's someone new then…"

"You're getting ahead of yourself," Timothy said, shaking his head, "There are a lot of odd people in the neighborhood. Perhaps people don't want to admit who it is because it would just stir up trouble."

"Why would someone just _let_ someone else do that sort of thing?" Laurent asked incredulously.

"I don't know… politics?"

"Politics?" Laurent repeated.

Timothy shrugged, "Whatever it is, you don't have to worry about it. The police will get this whole mess sorted out, you'll see."

"…but there were five attacks in the last week, shouldn't the police have caught him by now?"

"Don't rush them. They'll find him eventually."

"What if…"

"Please, just stop with all of these questions, you're giving me a headache," Timothy groaned, "Can't you just let me read?"

Laurent's face fell slightly, "You don't find this interesting at all?"

"I like plants, not people," Timothy said with a smile, gesturing to the book he was holding.

Laurent was silent for a few moments, and Timothy thought he was done talking. He smiled slightly and began to read again, only to be interrupted by the boy once more, "…do people come to this town a lot?"

"Come on," Timothy groaned.

"I'm just asking," Laurent said.

Timothy shook his head again, "Well, sometimes. It's seasonal. Now we're getting more tourists because winter is approaching. People like coming here in the winter for some odd reason. Maybe it's because of all of the snow…"

Laurent cupped his head in his hand, "I see…"

"You're looking far too into this," Timothy sighed, "You're a little kid. You shouldn't be thinking about these sorts of things."

"Well, what should I be thinking about, then?" Laurent asked.

"I don't know… sports, jokes, homework, friends…" Timothy said, trying to get back into his book, "…normal things like that."

"What about plants?"

Timothy blinked, "What?" he asked, looking up from the pages.

"Are plants a normal thing for people to think about…?" Laurent asked innocently.

Timothy frowned, "Well, it's uncommon…"

"It doesn't stop you from thinking about them, though," Laurent continued, motioning at the book.

Timothy frowned, "But…"

"I find this to be interesting like you find plants to be interesting," Laurent said, "Just because not very many people are interested in it, it doesn't mean someone can't be… right?"

Timothy sighed, "I suppose…" Laurent smiled, but Timothy made a face, "It doesn't mean I'm interested in it, though. Just as you aren't interested in plants, I'm not interested in crime," he snapped.

"I'm only going to ask you a couple more questions," Laurent said, "I know I'm bothering you, but you're one of the only people I can actually talk to."

"Oh, alright…" Timothy sighed.

"Okay… are there any hotels or motels in town?"

"What?"

"Well, if he's someone new, then he probably stayed… or is staying… in one of them…"

"You don't-"

"I know that I don't know whether or not he really is someone new…" Laurent agreed, "That doesn't mean I'm not going to look."

Timothy sighed and rubbed his forehead, "There's really only one," he said, "A hotel. My uncle actually runs it."

"Really? Do you think I could get a list of…"

Timothy sighed and gave him a look, somehow stopping Laurent from continuing, "Do you think that you can honestly go to my uncle and ask him to give you anything? You're what…eight years old?"

"Nine," Laurent corrected, "It was my birthday a few days ago…"

"That's still too young to be taken seriously," Timothy said.

Laurent blinked, as though the thought had never occurred to him. He looked down as he thought. Yes, it was true… he was rather young to be doing such things. Why would anyone humor a little kid like him? It really didn't make much sense… life wasn't a mystery novel, after all. "I understand," He sighed.

Timothy shrugged, "Sorry."

Laurent frowned, but nodded, "Well, thank you, I guess," he said, and then walked away.

Timothy looked down at his book but didn't see the page. He was quiet for a few moments as his thoughts drifted. The boy looked a little too disappointed for his liking. Placing a knuckle to his lip, he muttered softly to himself, "Hmm… I guess it wouldn't hurt…"

* * *

><p>A few days later, Laurent was sitting in the library, staring at the book spread out on the table before him. However, he wasn't reading it. His mind was elsewhere… mostly about that robber that still hadn't been caught. Though he wasn't giving up on this new interest of his, other people certainly tried to discourage him…many people who would at least humor him began paying him less and less attention the more he talked about the crimes. Like every other human being, Laurent didn't take well to being ignored, so he began to be a little less vocal about his current fascination. It certainly didn't help him get over it, though.<p>

_I wish I could have gotten more information from Timothy…_ Laurent thought. It certainly didn't help matters that the robber had struck again the day before. He was just toying with them now.

He sighed and turned the page in his book, mostly just to get a new sight in front of him. Other people got to peruse their own interests… why didn't he get that opportunity?

Suddenly, a big stack of papers landed with a thud on the open book, scaring Laurent into the real world. He looked up, confused and saw Timothy Jameson standing before him. He then looked down at the rather hefty pile of papers on the book.

"Wha…?" he asked.

Timothy smiled, "I guessed I could help somewhat… I went to my uncle and asked for copies of the hotel guest list," He tapped the pile of papers with his forefinger, "You're welcome."

Laurent blinked and began looking at the papers eagerly, "Why…?" he asked.

Timothy shrugged, "If this interests you as much as plants interest me, I guessed it wouldn't hurt to help you out... especially since I'm probably the best person for the job…"

"How…? Did you just…?" Laurent asked, fingers flipping through the pages.

"Oh, I just told him it was something for school. He didn't question it…" Timothy said with a smirk.

Laurent looked up at him, "You really didn't have to do this…"

Timothy shrugged.

"Thank you, though," Laurent continued.

"Don't mention it," Timothy smiled.

* * *

><p>Laurent stared at the papers spread out on his desk. He hadn't had a chance to get a good look at them before, he had classes to attend. He picked up one and random and examined it, his eyes scanning the names and dates. From what he gathered from the papers, the people who stayed in the hotel stayed roughly a time of one to three days before checking out. There were only a handful of people that stayed longer than four days, and only one person who had ever stayed over a week.<p>

…that person was still staying.

"So… Benjamin Green, huh?" Laurent said, picking up the latest paper. This man had checked into the hotel a day before the attacks started happening… Laurent sighed, "This is too easy… the police would have found this out immediately, wouldn't they?" he asked himself.

"Found out what?" a voice asked. Laurent whipped around to see Matthew in the doorway, grinning at him. Matthew took a few steps into the room, his smile persisting, "What do you have there?"

"This is the list of people who stayed in the local hotel…" Laurent replied, "…and… wouldn't the police have already looked into this?"

"Into what?"

"The people staying in the hotel," Laurent said, "Wouldn't that be the first place to look?"

Matthew shrugged, "I don't know…"

Laurent sighed.

"Why don't you ask them?"

Laurent blinked and looked questioningly at his roommate, "Huh?"

"I said, why don't you ask them?" Matthew repeated, "Maybe they haven't looked into it yet. Maybe you're giving them too much credit."

"I can't just ask them…!"

"Why not?"

Timothy Jameson's words echoed in Laurent's head, he sighed, "I'm only nine years old. Who will ever listen to me? What if it were something they hadn't come up with already? They might take it seriously because a little kid suggested it…"

"You said that they probably already did do it," responded Matthew, "So, no harm done, right?"

"Yes, but then it would be like I was insulting them for thinking that they couldn't come up with it on their own," Laurent responded.

"Since when do you care about insulting people?"

"I try not to."

"You aren't very good at it."

Laurent sighed.

"Come on, you've come up with something… maybe they'd want to know," Matthew said, "There is a chance that they haven't seen it yet."

Laurent looked doubtful.

"You won't stop talking about it, but as soon as you find out something you don't want to report it?" Matthew asked, cocking his head, "You're strange."

"I know," Laurent responded.

Matthew laughed, "Follow me, you're going to report it," and with that, he crossed the room, grabbed Laurent's wrist, and pulled him out into the hallway.

* * *

><p>Students weren't allowed to use the school's telephones unless it was an absolute emergency. That was because years ago, people had abused the privilege by crank calling anyone everywhere. The monstrous phone bills they had to pay every month were terrible, and complaints from unamused targets were even worse.<p>

"So, how are we going to report it?" asked Laurent as Matthew led him down the hall.

"Well, do you remember that upperclassman with the cellular phone?" Matthew asked.

"We're just going to walk up to him and ask if we can use it?" Laurent asked disbelievingly.

"We don't even have to ask! He lets everyone use it," Matthew responded. He then grinned, "He's into technology, too… so he messed around with it a little bit. Now, your voice sounds completely different when you talk through it…"

"He broke it?"

"No, he can switch it back when he wants… but people have been using the voice-changer to crank call people again…"

"…I bet his parents aren't very happy about that…"

"He's very strict about it," Matthew said, "Oh, here's the room!"

Matthew walked in, followed closely by Laurent. The upperclassman, who was reading at his desk, looked up. "Hello," he said.

"Hello… er… my friend was wondering if he could use your phone," Matthew said, motioning to Laurent.

The upperclassman shrugged and pointed to the brick-like contraption on his desk, "No long-distance calls."

Matthew smiled, "You don't have to worry about that," he said. He then went over and retrieved the telephone and handed it to Laurent with a smile.

"Is the voice-changing on…?" Laurent asked.

"It's never off," was the response, "Why? What are you planning on doing?"

"Nothing…" he said, rolling the phone in his hands, "Do you have a phone book…?"

The upperclassman sighed and pointed again to his desk. Matthew immediately went and got it, "I'll look it up. The local police department, right?"

"You're calling the police?" the upperclassman asked, alarmed.

"It's a tip about that robber," Matthew responded before Laurent could explain, "Here, here, I found it," Matthew pointed to the number in the book and grinned again.

"Do I really want to…"

"Yes, yes you do," Matthew urged.

Laurent sighed and punched in the number on the telephone, then held it up to his ear.

"Hello? Police department," the voice said on the other end.

"Uh… yes… I'm calling to give some information that might be useful about that robber case…?" Laurent responded.

"You've got an odd voice," was the response.

"Sorry," Laurent said.

There was silence on the other end, then a sigh, "Well… say your piece. We have no leads right now, so this can only help."

Laurent looked at Matthew questioningly, but Matthew nodded for him to continue. Sighing, Laurent continued, "Well… I was looking at the list of people that stayed in the local hotel and…"

As Laurent continued to speak, he couldn't help but notice how quiet the room was. He heard the faint peal of an unseen grandfather clock announcing the hour… why was it so still?


	14. Reunion

**A/N: This is the revised version of of this chapter... (4/13/12)**

**I really missed Quillish...**

**Thanks so much for all of your support (and unlimited patience)! I hope this story continues to hold your interest!**

Chapter 14: Reunion

Quillish Wammy sat alone in his living room, thumbing through one of his favorite old novels. An antique clock was ticking steadily away in the corner, but other than that, the room was still. Quillish turned the page, trying to get lost in his book, but found it to be more difficult than he had first envisioned. The clock's repetitive noise was starting to eat at his nerves.

_Is this how it always was…?_ Quillish asked himself, closing his book and looking around.

The clock continued ticking… the sound was loud and dull… unavoidable yet empty.

Like the oppressive nature of his house.

Quillish sighed, picked himself up and left the room. Maybe he'd feel better if he took a walk outside. The stuffiness of the building was probably just getting to him, that was all.

Quillish made his way down the hallway, listening to his footsteps echo hollowly off the walls…it felt as though he were the only person left in the world.

Suddenly, he stopped walking and frowned to himself. Perhaps… perhaps he would visit the school that day. Just to check up on Laurent. He had promised him, after all… and these days he hadn't been doing much outside of reading, anyway. He had no plans and nothing truly important to do…

He gave himself a decisive nod. Yes. He would go. He needed it.

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey, did you hear? That robber was caught!"<em>

"_Remember that man who robbed all those people in town a little while ago? The police have him now."_

"_Hold on… they got him just now? I thought they had captured him ages ago…"_

"_What was his name again…? Oh, that's right… Benjamin Green…"_

Almost a week after he had contacted the police, Laurent was surprised to hear such sorts of conversations as he walked down the hallways. For some reason, the students were more interested in the subject after the criminal had been caught than when the criminal was at large. Maybe it was because he seemed more human once he was in custody and therefore more real and worthy of conversation…? He had no idea.

…but he couldn't help but notice that the robber's name was _Benjamin Green._

He was right.

His information counted.

Laurent couldn't help but smile to himself in knowing this. He had helped …solve a case. Granted, it wasn't a very complicated one, but he helped nonetheless. That alone was enough to make him feel very good about himself.

_Maybe I could help solve another…_ Laurent thought, feeling slightly giddy.

It was then that he had turned down the hallway that housed the offices of the faculty. Doing so wasn't an uncommon occurrence. He went down this hallway many times throughout the day… it was almost unavoidable, since the hallway went down the exact center of the building. However, something made him stop as he passed by Roger Ruvie's office.

It wasn't uncommon to hear Dr. Ruvie's conversations with other people through the door, but this particular conversation seemed different.

There was something familiar in that muffled voice that was responding to Dr. Ruvie… something marvelously familiar.

Laurent's smile widened.

* * *

><p>"…and here, you can see how its forelegs differ from most of the fleas we have seen before," Roger continued, pointing at a blown-up photograph of his latest discovery.<p>

"Very interesting," Quillish responded with a smile.

He wasn't sure how long Roger was going to go on about the mysterious new flea, but Quillilsh supposed he had every right to do so. It wasn't every day that someone discovered a new insect, especially one that fascinated Roger so much.

…and he supposed that the fact that Roger had very few people to talk with about this interest made Quillish a prime candidate for an audience.

Still…

He hadn't come to the school with the intention of being lectured to about fleas.

Quillish got up and smiled benignly at his friend.

* * *

><p>"Roger, it has been wonderful to visit with you again…" Laurent heard the voice say as it grew louder. The speaker was moving closer to the door, "…but I didn't come to just see you…" the door was pushed open, "I've also come to see—" the speaker jumped slightly as he caught sight of the boy standing in the hallway, "Laurent!"<p>

"Hi," Laurent said with a smile.

Quillish's surprised expression immediately melted into a warm smile, "What a coincidence, I was just talking about you."

"I heard," Laurent responded.

Quillish laughed, "You've grown," he observed, looking over his adoptive son.

"It's only been a couple months…" Laurent said, still smiling, "I don't think I grew that much."

"I think you have," Quillish responded, ruffling Laurent's hair affectionately, "So, how has school being going? Are you getting good grades? Are the other children jealous?"

"I'm getting good grades, but everyone else is, too…" Laurent said, making a half-effort to fix his hair.

"Ah…" Quillish said, removing his hand from his adoptive son's head, "That means one of two things. Either everyone there is really smart, or the teachers make the classes really easy so everyone thinks they're smart," he leaned over to Laurent and said, "From the state of this school, I wouldn't doubt either."

Laurent smiled wider.

"So, Laurent, what else have you been doing besides classes?" Quillish asked, eyes shining.

Quillish knew he was being overenthusiastic, but he had every right to be. It had been months since he had seen his adoptive son last. After years of having the little boy in his life, it was a bit of a shock to revert right back to his previous lifestyle. His house seemed so empty without Laurent there. No one was asking him questions or giving little observations. No one was curled up in the library staring at one of his old books. No one was debating whether or not it was time to go to bed…

The more he lived without Laurent, the more Quillish realized just how miserable his life had been before he knew the boy existed.

"Well…" Laurent continued to smile, "I helped solve a crime."

Quillish blinked, _that was a little unexpected_, "You helped solve a crime…?" He repeated, looking rather confused, "Was it for a class?"

Laurent shook his head, "No, just on my own," Laurent responded, "Well, I had help in getting information, and I did need to borrow someone's phone…"

Quillish nodded, "Which crime was it?"

Laurent shifted slightly, "Well… did you hear about the attacks in town?" he asked.

Quillish looked up for a second, "I think I remember one news report…" he looked back down at his adoptive son, "Let me guess…" he said with a smile, "You helped solve that one?"

Laurent gave a nod.

Quillish grinned, "That's wonderful!"

"What are you yelling about?" Roger's voice suddenly asked from within the office. In a few moments, the man appeared behind Quillish, looking rather miffed, "Could you at least close the door before you start shouting? I'm very busy, you know… I can't have your conversations interrupting my work."

"Oh, sorry," Quillish said, turning to his friend but still smiling, "You didn't seem very busy when I was talking to you a few minutes ago, though."

Roger began to splutter, "I was being a gracious host!" he responded.

Quillish continued to smile, "Well, in any case, I apologize. I was just surprised to hear that Laurent helped solve a local crime," he said, motioning to his adoptive son.

That caused Roger to blink,"…what?" he asked, turning to the boy with a surprised expression on his face.

"Laurent had just told me that he helped put away… what was it…? A robber of sorts?" Quillish asked, looking at his adoptive son.

"Yes. Benjamin Green," Laurent responded.

Roger still looked rather lost, and he threaded his hand through his hair, "…what?" he repeated after a few seconds of silence, "He helped with the capture of Benjamin Green…? What…?" It quickly became apparent that he couldn't quite grasp what was going on.

"Oh, dear," Quillish said, turning to Laurent, "I do believe we broke him."

Roger shook his head, "Wait… the anonymous informant…the person they always talk about on the news… was this boy…?" Roger asked incredulously, pointing at Laurent and staring at Quillish.

"I think you'd better ask him yourself. Laurent knows more about it than I do," Quillish responded.

Roger turned to the boy and dropped his hand, "You… it was you…?"

Laurent shrugged, "I didn't think my information would make much difference…" he said truthfully, "…but yes, I think I did help out."

"You… you…? A little boy…?" Roger asked.

"Laurent is very smart for being a little boy," Quillish said with a nod, "I don't think you give children enough credit, Roger."

"It wasn't that big of a thing…" Laurent said.

Roger blinked, "Odd…" he mumbled, and then fell silent.

Quillish turned to Laurent and smiled, "So, was it exciting?"

"It was fun, but not very exciting…" Laurent responded, he smiled, "Well…it was a little exciting when I found out that it was my information that helped them get him, though…"

Quillish nodded, "Would you do it again?" he asked.

"Of course!" Laurent smiled. He looked down for a second, "Well, if it was a little more challenging... because once I got the hotel information it was pretty easy…"

Quillish looked at Roger with a smile, "It looks like we've got a super sleuth in the making, Roger," he said.

"Uh… yes… I suppose so…" Roger said with a nod.

"Come, Laurent, we should probably leave Roger to his work," Quillish said, "Let's go and find a better place to talk."

Laurent nodded, and the two of them made their way away from Roger's office.

Roger stared after them as they walked down the hall, turned a corner and vanished from sight. _That little boy helped solve a crime…? I thought that sort of thing only happened in mystery novels for children…_ he thought. He cupped his chin in his hand. _Maybe… maybe I don't give children enough credit…_


	15. Plans

**A/N: No, I am not dead and neither is this fic. I am so sorry for the extremely long wait... I know it's really no excuse, but I got really busy lately. I want to thank you all deeply for your extreme patience and your continuing interest in this story. Now, with all that out of the way... enjoy.**

**4/22/12 update: I fixed the name error in this chapter.**

Chapter 15: Plans

"Fifteen-love!" Laurent called out, serving the little yellow ball overhand across the net. The other boy, Daniel Stark, tensed, his eyes tracking the ball as it sailed through the air. Suddenly, like a cobra, he struck out at it, successfully knocking it back to Laurent's side.

However, Laurent was ready, as the ball neared him, he swung with all his might, hitting it back to the other side of the court. They went back and forth for quite a while, striking the poor tennis ball with all of their force, trying to make it hit as far away from his opponent's racquet as possible.

The early spring weather was a welcome change from the dreary dullness of winter. It was still a rather brisk day out, but Laurent didn't mind it much. It had been far too long since he was able to play tennis out in the open like this.

"Oi, Laurent! Laurent!" a voice suddenly called. Laurent looked up. The little tennis ball whizzed past his face, bounced cleanly on the ground and rolled out of bounds.

"That's fifteen-fifteen!" his opponent shouted, but Laurent had already stopped paying attention to the game. He instead began focusing on Thomas Harrington, who was running over to the courts, waving his arm in a friendly fashion.

"Yes?" Laurent asked as Thomas jogged up, panting slightly.

"Professor Ruvie is looking for you," Thomas replied between breaths.

Laurent blinked, _What…?_ "Professor Ruvie? Why?"

"Are you in trouble?" Daniel asked, walking up to join them.

Laurent shrugged, "I don't know… am I?" Laurent asked Thomas.

It was Thomas's turn to shrug, "I don't know…"

Laurent frowned, "I wonder what he wants…"

"I don't have any idea," Thomas said, shaking his head, "He just was asking for you, that's all. He didn't give us any reason for it."

"Huh…"

"You know, he doesn't like talking to us unless he really needs to…" Daniel said, suddenly finding the webbing of his racquet to be very interesting, "It must be something really important. You should probably see what he wants."

Laurent watched Thomas for a few seconds before his eyes drifted to his own racquet. He sighed, fiddling with the taut strings, "I guess I'll have to…"

* * *

><p>Within minutes, Laurent was standing in front of Roger Ruvie's office, simply staring at the door. What could the professor possibly want? Laurent didn't think he had broken any rules... and Professor Ruvie was never one for chit-chat with most of the faculty, let alone with any of the students.<p>

Laurent gave a sigh. The man struck him as being rather unfriendly. The professor had only spoken to Laurent a handful of times, and most of those times were because other people told him to. Laurent was never that interested in talking to him anyway. Professor Ruvie came off as many other adults did… as someone who really didn't care. Laurent was perfectly fine with that, really.

The question remained, though. What did he want with Laurent now?

_Well, whatever he wants, I suppose it's best just to find out,_ Laurent thought, knocking on the door.

"I'll be there in a moment!" a voice called from within the office.

There was a bit of scuffling, some soft bumps, then, the door swung open, "Oh!" the professor exclaimed upon seeing the boy's face, "Laurent! I was looking for you! Come in," he said, moving to the side and allowing the boy into his office.

"Why were you looking for me, Professor?" Laurent asked, taking a seat in front of Roger Ruvie's desk.

"I was curious… would you like to do more in this school…?" Professor Ruvie asked somewhat awkwardly, situating himself in his own seat and folding his hands in front of him.

Laurent shrugged, "Maybe…" _Is this really important enough for me to come to his office…?_

"Well, lately, I was thinking about what you did this past autumn…Remember when you helped catch the robber Benjamin Green…?"

"Of course I do," Laurent said with a nod.

"Well... would you ever be interested in doing any other cases…?"

Laurent blinked and looked questioningly at the headmaster,"…what?"

"I said, would you ever be interested in doing any other cases?" Professor Ruvie said impatiently.

Laurent blinked again. This topic was certainly the last thing he had been thinking of…"Well… um...I've been wanting to," Laurent said,"…but there haven't really been that many criminal cases around town lately so I…"

"There's plenty outside of this little town, I assure you," Professor Ruvie said, cutting Laurent off mid-sentence, "…but you are interested, correct?"

"Yes," Laurent said.

"Fine. That is all I wanted to know…run along, now…" Professor Ruvie said, getting up from his seat and shooing Laurent out of his office.

"That's all?" Laurent asked.

"That's all," the professor confirmed.

* * *

><p>After that ridiculously short conversation with Professor Ruvie, Laurent met back up with Daniel and Thomas, who had yet to stray from the tennis courts. Daniel was itching to continue the game that was so rudely interrupted, and Thomas had simply stuck around to hear about what the professor had said.<p>

"Wait… that was all?" Thomas asked.

"I was confused about it, too…"

"Oi, Laurent! I'm going to serve the ball, alright?" Daniel called.

"Yeah," Laurent responded. He turned back to Thomas, who was standing on the sideline, "Does he usually call people into his office and ask them random questions?"

"Fifteen-fifteen!"

"I don't think so…Professor Ruvie never likes talking to most of us in the school…"

Thump. THWACK. Laurent hit the ball back over the net, but kept one eye on Thomas.

"That's what I thought," he responded.

Thump. THWACK. Daniel returned the ball with nasty speed.

"It's strange how he took so long to talk to you about your interest in that silly robber case. It was months ago!" Thomas said, "I almost forgot all about it."

THWACK. Laurent sent the ball in Daniel's direction right before it flew out-of-bounds.

"I know…I almost did, too…"

Thump… thump.

"DARN IT! Laurent, your serve!" Daniel shouted, bouncing the ball over to Laurent's side.

"Professor Ruvie is an odd one…" Thomas mused, "I thought that he didn't care about what anyone else liked…but why would he suddenly want to know about you?"

"Thirty-fifteen!" Laurent called, serving overhand.

Thump. THWACK!

* * *

><p>Roger Ruvie leaned back in his chair. Perhaps he could have pitched it a little better to the boy. Looking back, the conversation seemed so stiff, so odd and so quick… <em>ah, it doesn't matter… he said yes, didn't he…?<em>

He frowned. What sort of child cared about those sorts of things? What sort of child felt the need to solve crimes and put away criminals? What sort of child wasn't interested in causing mischief, being loud and giving him gray hairs? What sort of child actually cared about the world?

_Fictional ones,_ Roger's mind supplied.

That didn't quite explain Laurent, though.

He wasn't the standard sort of child that came through the school… he was a strange one, that was a fact…but not as unpleasant as the rest of them. There was little the boy ever did that upset him… then again, all of the others did it enough to make up for it.

…_but how can he exist?_ Roger asked.

As soon as he had realized that it was in fact _Laurent_ who had helped save the town from the robber, he started thinking more and more about the little boy's differences from his classmates. The more he thought about them, the more he realized he had little to no information about the sort of character Laurent had. Maybe he was just an ordinary child with a love of solving crimes as other boys have a love of cars, dogs or dirt… perhaps he was no different than any of the other children in the school. He just had a novel interest.

_But why crimes of all things…?_

He didn't understand it.

Therefore, though Laurent lacked an exoskeleton, two legs and a metamorphic growth cycle… Roger felt the strange need to study him.

…and what better way to study a person than to watch them do what interests them?


	16. Preparations

**A/N:**

**(This is for all ya'll who skip to the last chapter and miss this on the first.)**

**-SPECIAL AUTHOR ANNOUNCEMENT-**

**Hey guys. So, it's been a few years since I last worked on "Laurent." I've always felt kind of guilty of leaving all of you hanging like that, especially for this long. I know I hate it when fics I read never have conclusions. I even promised myself I wouldn't become that all-too-common author that leaves their fics on an unofficial, unfinished cliffhanger... so here I am, trying to avoid that terrible fate. Also, more than that, I have some exciting news for the people who enjoyed this fic!**

**But first, the bad news.**

**Though I have attempted it, I simply cannot continue this story. "Laurent" was written as I went, with crazy self-imposed deadlines and an incredibly fuzzy outline that I smeared and smudged every single step of the way. Right now, I think of this story as an unsalvageable mess.**

**BUT WAIT JUST ONE SECOND!**

**That doesn't mean that "Laurent" is gone for good. As I said before, I won't be the author that leaves you hanging. Instead of trying to repair this project, I decided to start afresh. This version will remain on the site for nostalgic purposes, but will be retitled "Laurent version 1" or something to that effect.**

**To all of my readers, thank you so much for your patience and support. I really appreciate it and I hardly deserve it.**

**Be sure to be on the lookout for the new and improved Laurent!**

**A/N: Hello! It seems like every upload takes longer to get to you guys, and for that I sincerely apologize. Thanks for all of your continued support and I hope this story continues to hold your interest!**

Chapter 16: Preparations

After the few months of moping about in his house with nothing much to do, Quillish suddenly decided to do something a little more productive with his time… and since paying for Laurent's school wasn't spending his money fast enough, Quillish had decided to start looking into good causes to put some funds into. It was a strange, idle fancy that caused him to do this... but why not? Even if it was simply an attempt to while away the hours, at least something good would come from it.

It was his first inclination to begin researching foundations… that seemed like a good starting point in his opinion.

…but that seemed a little too impersonal the more he thought about it. When wealthy people gave money away to such things, Quillish always found himself thinking it looked forced or fake. As though those people were just giving away money to seem more likable… or to show the public that they were human enough to care for a certain cause. They never really saw anyone they were helping; they were just throwing money at an organization in some attempt to seem more approachable.

...and a lot of foundations seemed to take quite a chunk of the donated money for their own use anyway.

…and that's how Quillish found himself wondering just how he was going to give some of his money away.

He picked up a pen from the desk and chewed on the end absently as he read a paper over.

At one point, he began wondering what right he had to start spending money when he already had an heir to give it to… what would be the point of even having an heir if he was just going to start giving away his money like this…?

…then again, it wasn't like Laurent was going to be able to use all of his fortune even if he tried, anyway…

…and his money seemed like it never tired of growing. There had to be a more practical use for it than simply filling up the local banks…

Quillish set down the sheet of paper and picked up another.

It was on one day, when Quillish was flipping through an old novel he had chosen randomly from a bookshelf that the idea suddenly struck him. Why not start funding some of the orphanages he had visited all those years ago? The people could certainly use some money, considering how happy they had been when he had given them the small sums back then… why not? It certainly wouldn't hurt anyone…

…and it would at least spend some time…

…and that's how Quillish had found himself digging out old papers from years and years ago with the information of all of the orphanages he had ever visited printed upon them. It was times like those that made him happy he had a bit of a packrattish side.

Quillish put down the piece of paper and lifted another to his eyes.

Here he was now, sitting at his desk, contacting each orphanage, one after the other, and promising them another sum of money, just because.

Ah, what a feeling it was. It almost was though he was a young philanthropist once more, the way he went about it. It was actually quite nostalgic…

Quillish reached for the phone after checking the number on the page once more, but before he could even touch it, the phone began to ring.

Quillish blinked in surprise.

He picked up the phone and placed to his ear, "Hello? Quillish Wammy speaking."

"Quillish, hello, it's me, Roger," The voice on the other end said.

Quillish smiled, "Oh, hello, Roger. How have you been lately?" he asked, leaning back a little in his seat. It was always a treat to speak to him.

"Fine, fine… And you?"

"I'm keeping busy."

"That's good to hear."

"Quillish, your boy is something else," Roger said abruptly.

Quillish laughed lightly, "I could have told you that," he said, picking up another piece of paper and examining it. He paused slightly, "He's not doing anything bad, is he?"

"What do you mean…?" Roger asked, slightly puzzled.

"Oh, nothing. He just has some odd habits at home, that's all. I just had the thought that you were calling because he was being a distraction in class or something like that," Quillish said, sticking the end of his pen back into his mouth absently.

"Like wha-…" Roger paused, "It doesn't matter. No, I just find Laurent to be a different sort of child than what we're used to."

"Is that so…?"

"Do you remember the case your boy solved?"

"Yes. He's a clever boy, isn't he…?" Quillish said with a smile.

"Yes, strangely so. Quillish, I've decided that I want to study him a little."

"Roger, he's a boy, not a bug," Quillish laughed, "…and you're no psychologist."

Roger gave a sigh, "It doesn't mean I can't be interested when one of the children shows an inkling of intelligence…"

"Ah, it's a wonder that children can be smart… that's the Roger I've come to know," Quillish said, grinning slightly.

"Will you just listen to me for a second?" Roger asked, sounding a little frustrated, "I want to study your boy by observing him solving more crimes."

Quillish blinked, "…is that so…?" he asked after a bit of a pause.

"That's right," Roger replied, "The best way to observe someone is to observe someone in their element."

"I'm not sure if you could really call it his element. He's only solved that one case and that was months ago…" Quillish said, "I'm sure it was just a passing fancy… something to do to while the hours away and forget about afterward. You know how children are, don't you?"

"Your son is no ordinary child," Roger replied.

"Roger, I will be the first to agree with you in saying that Laurent is indeed a very special sort of person, but you must understand that all children are prone to adventuring and doing new things. Just because they may succeed in certain things, it doesn't mean that those things are in their 'element,'" Quillish said, "Why, you were very good at mathematics when you were younger but you're not a mathematician now."

"Mathematics and solving crimes are two separate things!"

"Why?"

"What do you mean, 'why?'"

"Why do you think mathematics and solving crimes are two separate things? They both pose a question and they both have one take steps to solving that question."

"Mathematics was _required…_ I only knew I was good at them because I was forced to take the classes. Laurent did the crime-solving on his own!"

"Well, what about the time you tried out for music class?"

"I wasn't any good, remember?"

"Well, what if you had been? Would you have given up on being an entomologist because you could play the violin?"

"No, probably not…"

"…you chose to explore playing music, even though you were certain it wasn't your calling?" Quillish asked.

"…yes…"

"So why can't Laurent look at things like the way you looked at the violin?"

"TRYING OUT FOR THE ORCHESTRA ISN'T THE SAME THING AS SOLVING CRIMES!"

"Why not?"

"….because it's common practice to try to play a musical instrument!"

"So, one can only explore doing things that are common practice?"

"Yes… well… no, but…"

"Then I fail to see why you want to study Laurent solving crimes of all things. He's only solved one crime. Why don't you observe him doing other things that he does more often? He's very good at tennis, for instance…"

"You can't see how a mind works by watching someone play tennis!" Roger snapped.

"Ah-ha. That's where you're wrong..."

"Well, it's difficult for _me…_"

"No one is asking for you to do this experiment, Roger."

"BUT I WANT TO DO THIS EXPERIMENT!" Roger roared.

"Why?"

"…because this child does things that normal children don't do!"

"Bear in mind that your version of a 'normal' child comes only from the students of the school," Quillish said.

"I don't need your chiding, Quillish. Laurent has already agreed to try to solve more crimes," Roger said.

"I never said he wasn't allowed to solve more crimes if he wanted to," Quillish said calmly.

"It sounded like it," Roger said crossly.

"No, I was just wondering why you thought solving crimes would be his _element…_" Quillish said.

"Maybe 'element' is too strong a word…"

"That's what I was saying," laughed Quillish.

Roger sighed, "Yes… I suppose you were… It's been good talking to you," he said with a tone of annoyance and frustration that he didn't bother to hide, "…but I am very busy now… I just called to inform you of this…"

"Is that so? Well, if you make any breakthroughs about my son, please tell me," Quillish said with a light laugh, "I'm very curious about what you would find out about him. Perhaps that not all children are spoiled monsters…?"

"Don't tease me, Quillish." Roger growled.

Quillish laughed again, "I'll talk to you again, soon, I trust? Goodbye, Roger. Take care of yourself."

"Take care of yourself, too, Quillish. Goodbye," Roger replied, and then he hung up the phone.

Quillish shook his head as he put the phone back on the receiver. _He's a scientist, through and through, _he thought.

* * *

><p>Roger leaned back in his chair and simply stared crossly at the telephone. Obviously, Quillish found his plan flawed…it really wasn't what he expected from him, but… he supposed he could live with it. Laurent had agreed to solve more cases, hadn't he? So he used the wrong word… that wasn't a crime, was it?<p>

He just wished that Quillish didn't have to chide him like that. He wasn't a child, after all…

Roger shook his head roughly and began distracting himself with his work. It was what he was being paid for, wasn't it…?

* * *

><p>"Is it really that comfortable to sit like that?"<p>

Laurent looked up from the papers, slightly startled, "Like what…?" he asked, looking over to his roommate who was watching him from the doorway.

"You look like a bird," Matthew said, motioning to him, "That, or a gargoyle."

Laurent shrugged, "I think it's comfortable…" he responded, and began looking over his papers again, tucking his knees a little closer to his chest.

Matthew shrugged in response, "If you say so…" he walked further into their room, "What are you looking at?" he asked, peeking over Laurent's shoulder to get a better look at what was on the desk.

"Nothing, really… Professor Ruvie just gave me a few cases to look over to see if I was interested in investigating any of them…" Laurent responded.

"I don't get it," Matthew stated, picking up a piece of paper at random and examining it as though it contained the secret to life itself.

"Neither do I," responded Laurent with a sigh.

"No, I mean I really don't get it," Matthew said, dropping the piece of paper back on the desk, "Professor Ruvie isn't the sort of person who would…"

"I know."

"So don't you find it a bit odd that he would…?"

"Of course," Laurent sighed.

"Then what do you plan on doing about it?"

Laurent looked up questioningly at his roommate, "What do you mean?"

"What are you going to do about what Professor Ruvie is doing? You find it weird, right? Well… wouldn't it be something to do an investigation on the man who wants you to do the investigating?" Matthew asked.

"He really doesn't interest me," Laurent said truthfully.

"But…"

Laurent shrugged, "If I feel the need to study him, I will, I guess. Right now, I guess I'll just see where this goes…"

"Well… alright, then…" Matthew said, sounding slightly disappointed. He picked up the piece of paper again and read it over, "…hey, you know… this one sounds interesting…"


End file.
